Not Your Kind Of People
by ChronicLegCramp-Since'99
Summary: "You're right. What difference does it make, when we weren't normal to begin with?" Will they/wont they? Set in a world where Clary and Jonathan grew up together, closer than siblings should and they're telepathic...Clary/Jonathan. Rated M for sexual content and violence in one chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**Not Your Kind Of People**

**A TMI Fanfic by ChronicLegCramp-Since'99**

Pairing: Clary/Jonathan

*Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments and all its characters belong to Cassandra Clare, respectively*

* * *

_'Clarissa.'_

Clary paused from shading in the shadows that danced across her unhappy prince's features and glanced up. She sat at the base of a cedar tree, leaning back against the bark as the sun beat down on her bare legs and feet. Her fiery red hair was tied up in a messy bun since she'd been too edgy that morning to care about her appearance and curling strands framed her face. She had on dungaree shorts- one strap had slipped down her arm without her realising- and a faded lilac t-shirt that was slightly too snug on her now and was fraying at the hem. Her face, which had been tight with worry all day, relaxed for a fraction of a second before tensing up again, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. There was no one around this section of the park except for her and the occasional passersby.

_'Where are you?'_ the question floated along the wavelength that had sought out her mind and she shivered at the connection.

"Right here," an amused voice whispered into her right ear; Clary visibly jumped and then mentally chided herself for it. She turned, her emerald green eyes falling into bottomless black ones.

"Jonathan," a moment of wordless greeting passed between them, in which they cupped each others face and leant their foreheads together, the tips of their noses touching. After a brief eternity, the redhead's relief evaporated from whence it came and she frowned at the ivory haired boy. "Where've you been?"

"Walking." Jonathan responded after a sigh, pulling away as he masked his expression, stretching his legs out beside her and leaning back on his palms. Clary's frown deepened; Jonathan only went on 'walks' when he wanted to be alone, but it had been a year since the last time. Her thoughts were immediately bombarded with possibilities of what could be troubling him and she carefully slipped her sketchbook back into her bag along with her pencil case. She angled her body towards him and quietly studied his tired face before speaking.

"Mum's going to ground you for a month," the teasing tone she'd been going for didn't sound quite right. Jonathan who had been gazing off into the distance sent her a side glance.

"Well, I'm the only one who has to worry about that, little sister," he replied, sounding devoid of emotion until the end, where he took on an almost bitter tone, unnoticeable to anyone but Clary.

_'What happened?'_ she spoke gently to his mind, raising a hand to tuck a few loose strands behind his ear. He flinched and her hand dropped limply back into her lap, hurt flashing in her wide eyes. She looked away, knowing that she couldn't force him, that he wouldn't tell her unless he wanted to. She hated that sometimes. Hated that there were things he wasn't willing to share with her, when she was always content to confide in him about any and everything. She knew it was silly, immature even, but she couldn't help it. She cherished the close bond she had with her brother, but she didn't like that she couldn't always read him, when he could tell what she was thinking without any indication what so ever, just by looking. He was looking at her now, his dark eyes regarding her and the only hint of reaction the bob of his Adams apple as he swallowed.

"See you at home," he told her then, beginning to get to his feet. Without really thinking about it the redhead pushed him down by the shoulders, her left knee pressing down on his torso. Jonathan sucked in a breath, momentarily taken off guard. However he quickly recovered, grounding his teeth as he glared up at his sister, his hands fisting into the grass either side of his body. "Get off me, Clary."

"No," she said, returning his sour look with defiance. "Not until you tell me what's going on,"

"There's nothing going on," he replied, voice rough with growing frustration. The redhead rolled her eyes, giving his shoulders a light squeeze.

_'Then why the disappearing act?'_ she questioned, raising her eyebrows in challenge.

_'Maybe I just can't stand being around you.'_ Jonathan quipped with a cool smile.

"Now I know you're lying," Clary said in a soft, thoughtful tone, as she watched the colour spreading along his sharp cheekbones. "You love me, you're my brother-" she gasped as she suddenly found herself rolling until her back made contact with the lush ground and something was pinning her down. Her brother was on top of her, his lower half between her legs and his hands crushing the grass either side of her head, supporting his weight. Slowly the surprised laughter that had escaped her mouth subsided, as she looked up at him. Jonathan's face was inches from hers, a lock of his pale hair tickling her cheek and his chest was rising and falling sporadically. Clary felt her heart stutter and begin to race as she lightly placed her hands on his forearms.

_'Jonathan?'_ she smiled through her confusion; for a split second it occurred to her that he was going to kiss her. He leant closer and her lips parted slightly, her breath coming faster as Jonathan's now-lidded eyes travelled from her vivid green ones down to her lips. He _was_ going to kiss her…Clary felt her face flush as her grip on his arms tightened, but she didn't move. _'Jonathan…?'_

At that moment a loud ringing sounded, coming from Clary's bag a few feet away. Both of them froze, holding their breath. Jonathan's eyes widened as if snapping out of a dream and abruptly shoved away from her, pulling himself up off the floor. Clary sat up, ignoring her phone and the lump in her throat for the time being. Her brother was standing with his back to her, his posture stiff.

"Where are you going?" she asked hastily as he moved to walk away.

"Home. Where else?" Jonathan answered in an infinitely bored tone, as if nothing had just happened- or nearly happened.

"But…"

"The sun's already gone down. You should head back soon yourself," he continued, stil not looking at her.

"Whatever you say, big brother," Clary tried to make her voice light-hearted, before biting her lip at her choice of words. Needless to say, Jonathan's hands clenched and he instantly strode away, leaving his sister looking on in exasperation.

* * *

That night, Jonathan lay in bed, staring up at his ceiling, having long since given up on the hope of sleep claiming him. He couldn't stop thinking about what he'd done in the park. About how, deep down, he wished they'd never been interrupted. He turned onto his side, his jaw working as he felt blood pooling in his nether regions at the memory of lying on top of her, his pelvis trapped between her thighs. Becoming increasingly agitated, he slipped his hand into his boxers and started to palm his hardened member, swallowing past his self-disgust just enough to imagine that it was Clary's hand doing the honours. It was then that he registered the faint tapping on his bedroom door. He swiftly withdrew his hand and attempted to even out his breathing. He listened to the gentle click of the door opening and closing, his muscles tensing with every step of the intruders approach. She got in his bed and wrapped her arms around him, curling up against his back. He wished someone would just kill him now and get it over with.

_'What are you doing?'_ he asked her in a deceptively calm voice; his penis was already as hard as a rock and yet the warmth of his sisters petit frame radiating onto his seemed to make it harder, until it was almost unbearable.

_'Sleeping,'_ her voice was unusually timid and a whisper despite the fact that no ones else could hear.

_'Sleep in your own room.'_ Jonathan returned flatly, the scowl practically etched on his face.

_'We haven't shared a bed in so long; it's lonely on my own,'_ Clary murmured, pressing her feet up against his ankles. _'We used to do this all the time…I'm comfy now anyway,'_

_'Don't you get it? Haven't you realised yet? This isn't normal- this isn't how normal siblings are!'_ Jonathan snapped, turning around so that he could fix his fierce gaze on hers. _'Brothers and sisters don't cuddle in bed together- not by this age at least. This is too much, it's unhealthy,'_

_'We've never been normal anyway!'_ Clary retorted defensively, hugging her arms to herself. _'I can't just stop being who I am- change who I am. We slept in the same room, in the same bed for years; I was never afraid of the dark, or of the bogeyman coming to get me in the night because I had you next to me, to keep me safe. Nowadays, I wake up every half an hour as if my body senses you're not there and feels uneasy…that's why I end up calling out to you sometimes…but you don't answer me anymore…'_ the redhead closed her eyes, inhaling deeply and begged herself not to cry. Jonathan rolled onto his back, covering his face with his hands and resisted the urge to shudder as he felt Clary place her hand on the exposed skin of his shoulder.

"…Not normal…" he muttered to himself after a long pause. Gradually he lowered his hands and looked up at his sister who was gazing down at him, a picture of black and white in the dim room.

"…Jonathan?" Clary murmured hesitantly, taking in the change in her brother's face.

"You're right. What difference does it make, when we weren't normal to begin with?" A diabolically crooked smile crossed his face before he leant up and captured Clary's mouth with his own, clamping a hand down on her neck. He watched her eyes fly wide as he forced her down on the mattress, prying her mouth open with his tongue. He focused his black gaze on her fluttering eyelids before they fell closed altogether, as he sucked at her lips none too gently and licked up the length of her tongue. It took him several seconds to notice that Clary's fingertips were gliding up and down his back and that her body was tame beneath him apart from her foot, which was rubbing up the back of his thigh. Jonathan broke away from her mouth and stared down at his clearly flustered sister, who was breathing rather audibly.

_'What are you doing?'_ he demanded in a vaguely chiding tone. Clary blanched, her face reddening further.

_'What?'_

_'Why were you kissing me back?'_ he asked, disapproval clear on his face.

_'Because I wanted to. Wasn't that obvious?'_ she answered, her features softening as she cupped his face to bring his lips back down to hers. Jonathan stayed motionless as his sister kissed him, stroking his cheek and chewing on his bottom lip playfully.

_'Stop.'_ he commanded, waiting for her to reopen her eyes so that he knew she was listening. _'This never happened and it won't ever again. This was a mistake. Now go back to your room and go to sleep. I'm your brother; try to remember that, will you?'_ he rolled off her and onto his side, his back to her once again.

_'Mistake…?'_ she whispered into his thoughts, incredulous, but he could hear the hurt underlying her tone. Jonathan squeezed his eyes shut, his blunt nails digging into his palms.

_'What you're feeling, it's…just misplaced admiration for the big brother who's always looked out for you,' _he told her, as if explaining Pythagoras' theorem. _'Why don't you say yes the next time Simon asks you out? That should help you see clearly…'_ a heavy silence descended upon them and Jonathan had begun to wonder if Clary had fallen asleep. But then he felt the bed shift under the movement of her getting out and she exited the room without another word. Jonathan let out a ragged breath.

Eventually, he dealt with the hard-on he was still sporting and collapsed from mental and physical exhaustion. He only hoped Clary would forget about him. It was one thing for Jonathan to harbour sick and twisted fantasies about his younger sister, but it was a whole other thing for Clary to offer herself to him without so much as batting an eyelid. This had all been a test of his self-control and he'd lost, badly. But he wasn't going to lose again, not even if it killed him.

* * *

**_Yeah, I know they're both probably OOC but oh well, hope you enjoyed!_**

**_Oh and the title is from the song of the same name by Garbage (I thought it suited them, in this story at least...kinda) :P Also, I might upload one or more parts depending on if I feel like continuing this and/or people liked this._**


	2. Chapter 2

-2-

* * *

Clary had a date. With Simon.

She had been walking to school with him that morning, when she'd unintentionally blurted out that she wanted to see a movie with him. At first, the boy with the thick, dark brown locks and rectangular glasses had been confused, wondering aloud what had brought on her sudden impulse to go to the cinema- and on a school night too. She had read the alarm in his eyes and quickly reassured him that they would go to an early showing, so as not to risk her father's ire in keeping his daughter out late. Her best friend had still looked doubtful, however at the mention of the word 'date' and a slightly suggestive smile from the redhead, Simon had agreed. He hadn't done a great job at containing a self-conscious grin either.

Clary wasn't going to pretend to herself that this wasn't retaliation to her brother's rejection; she was plagued by the memory of the way he'd dismissed her, as if she were a little girl with a silly crush. And yet she knew he wanted her too, which made it all the more worse. She hadn't seen Jonathan since breakfast, during which time she'd merely munched on her toast, studiously ignoring him. He'd shown no outward reaction, although she'd caught him looking at her once or twice, eyes unfocused with slimly-veiled lust; her resolve had almost crumbled there and then. She pondered how often her brother had given her that look over the past couple of years, either when she wasn't looking or without her quite realising the intention behind it. It was obvious to Clary now, though; it was like a mirror being held up to her, displaying her innermost desires.

Now, she was putting on the only dress she owned- a teal wrap dress, with gold and bronze appliquéd flowers here and there- all for a boy who, although she loved dearly, had no attraction to what so ever. She stood in front of her mirror for a long time, resisting the urge to bite her lip. She'd thought about wearing her hair up, but had then decided to leave it loose and wild- she was sure Simon had said he liked it that way, or maybe that had been someone else…She hastily applied minimal make-up to her lips and eyes, just as she'd watched her mother do countless times, before slinging the thin strap of her purse across her shoulder blades. After a moment of deliberation, Clary swapped her kitten heels for simple, black dolly shoes; she wasn't going to a fancy restaurant and Simon was hardly a stranger she needed to impress.

Finally, the redhead left her bedroom, her hands itching to seek out the nearest elastic band, so she could tie her hair up and have done with it. As she rounded the corner into the living room, she spotted Jonathan lounging on the sofa on his back. His school blazer was slung over the back of it, his shoes in a messy pile next to the coffee table and he'd loosened his tie, his shirt gaping open at the neck and exposing his smooth skin. One of his legs was drawn up, but his eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling steadily. Clary smiled softly at the picture, approaching the sofa as soundlessly as she could and sat down on the edge, beside her him. His mouth was partially open, his face the most peaceful she'd seen it in what felt like forever. Carefully, she stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. His forehead creased faintly, as his mouth closed and he inhaled deeply through his nose. Clary laid her hand on her brother's chest over his heart, feeling it beat against her palm. Jonathan's onyx-black eyes opened then, his head turning towards her. His gaze was lidded and a sleepy smile graced his face, as if he wasn't fully aware of his surroundings just yet. Boldly, the redhead cupped his face and leant her forehead on his; it had only been several hours and already she was tired of giving him the silent treatment. He would only be docile for so long, anyway.

_'Jonathan,'_

_'Clary…'_ he sighed, his hands coming up to rest on her shoulders. There was a pause and then his eyes, which had fallen shut again, slowly opened and met his sisters emerald gaze. He pushed her back- not roughly- and sat up, levelling her with a stern look. Jonathan opened his mouth, most likely to reprimand her, but seemed to change his mind, looking from her hair, to her dress, to her purse.

"Why are you dressed up?" he inquired, raising a fair eyebrow. "Are you going somewhere?" Clary glanced away, fiddling with a strand of her hair as her face heated up.

"Just…out," she mumbled eventually, tensing under her brother's heavy scrutiny.

"With?" Jonathan prompted impatiently, eyeing her close-cut dress suspiciously. Clary breathed out, exasperated at the reaction she was receiving; was it not her brother, who'd more or less ordered her to date someone- who preferably wasn't him?

"Simon, of course," she returned curtly, folding her arms tightly across her chest. Jonathan gave her a long look that she couldn't quite interpret.

"You're going on a date with Simon?" he clarified, his face contorting in bafflement.

"Well, it was _your_ suggestion," Clary pointed out, pouting a little as she did. Jonathan shoved himself off the sofa and started pacing, his nose flared and his jaw set. The redhead regarded her brother for a moment, revelling in his discomposure, before glancing at the clock on the wall behind her; she didn't have long until Simon would arrive. Running a hand through her curls, she stood and placed herself in Jonathan's path, stopping him mid-stride.

"I won't allow it," he declared before Clary could speak, his face now guarded. Incredulous laughter bubbled to Clary's lips as she shook her head; Jonathan glared at her.

"Okay, fine," she amended, a sly grin growing on her face. "But that means you'll have to be alone with me until Mum or Dad get back. How long d'you think? An hour? Two hours? A lot can happen in that time…" her brothers expression became livid, his hands clenching as he towered over her.

"What are you saying?" he demanded through gritted teeth.

"Either you give me to Simon, or you let me have you. Which is it going to be?" Clary told him, sounding more confident than she felt. Simon was her best friend, but she wasn't sure she wanted to be given to him in any way.

_'No.'_ his mental tone held firm finality and the redhead knew exactly what he was saying no to, although that didn't prevent the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Then I'm going," she announced, the dejection clear in her voice, before she made for the front door.

Jonathan willed himself to let his sister leave, but his legs disobeyed him, fuelled by the image of Simon Lewis slobbering all over her. He stood between Clary and the door, staring her out and trying to ignore the spark of hope in her eyes. She was bluffing though- he was certain of it- and even if she tried anything, he did have some self-control. And if that turned out not to be the case, he could be just as stubborn as his sister. After all, he'd vowed never to lose out to temptation again.

"Jonathan-?"

"Ring him. Cancel the date." The person in question commanded, nonchalantly putting his hands in his pockets and leaning back against the door. His expression was blank, but under the surface his mind was whirring with all the things he was _not_ going to do to his sister. Clary grinned triumphantly and padded back through to the living room as she texted Simon, attempting to sound as regretful as was possible over the phone. Jonathan cautiously followed after her, momentarily distracted with thoughts about what kind of underwear Clary might have on beneath her dress. Ever since the previous night he'd been slipping; it was as if that now he knew Clary wanted him, his own want had increased tenfold. But that was dangerous. Even if he no longer had to conceal it from his sister to a certain extent, he still needed to hide it from everyone else. Someone- anyone- discovering him to be the incestuous pervert that he was, could not only ruin his life, but destroy his entire family. Jonathan's mouth formed a grim line as he sat down on the window seat and stared blindly out over the city.

_'Jonathan…?'_ pulled out of his reverie, he glanced up as his sister brushed the hair out of his right eye. He readied a scowl of disapproval, but something in her green eyes gave him pause. She was standing close to him, her hair resting against his shoulder, but there was a glint of sincerity in her eyes. Deeming that she wasn't about to pounce on him, his features softened a little.

_'You're not lulling me into a false sense of security, are you?'_

_'No…'_ her answer was just a whisper in his head. 'I just want to stay with you for a while,' before Jonathan could respond, his sister moved to curl up in his lap, leaning her head against his chest. He was frozen in place for a few minutes, as if expecting her to suddenly straddle him and grind against his already semi-stiff penis. But no, that was only something a part of him wished would happen. Clary stayed as silent as a dor mouse, although her brother could practically hear the pulse hammering in the veins under her skin. Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around her, a hand winding into her red curls. He sensed her release an inaudible sigh and couldn't help but bury his face in her shoulder for a moment, deeply inhaling the scent of her hair before withdrawing again and leaning his head back against the wall. His own heart was aching in his chest and a blush crept along his cheekbones, as chagrin overtook him.

_'Clarissa…'_ he barely registered that he'd connected to his sister's mind as he breathed her name, his arms automatically tightening around her.

_'I wish you'd hold me like this at night,'_ came her response, although it held no bitterness, only a sense of loneliness that pricked her brother's heart sharply.

_'Wishing for things we can't have is futile,'_ Jonathan told her in a detached voice, closing his eyes.

_'I know you wish for the same thing I do. You can't pretend anymore,'_ Clary murmured, absently playing with his tie. His hold on her tightened further and then he let go altogether; the redhead looked up at him unhappily.

"Don't make this any harder than it already is, Clary." He said, his black eyes piercing hers.

"I could make it impossible for you to say no to me, if I wanted…" she told him then, in a deadly quiet voice.

"You wouldn't dare," Jonathan returned coldly, although he swallowed hard at the predatory look on his sister's face, so reminiscent of his own. If she kept this up, he'd end up taking her whether she consented or not. And then he really would be the lowest of the low. Clary lifted a hand and began running her fingers through her brothers ivory locks, her face inching closer to his. Their eyes locked, but this time emerald wasn't falling, they were weaving their way into onyx; Jonathan mentally faltered. And then Clary's lips were on his.

_'No…'_

_'Yes!'_ Jonathan didn't move as his sister probed and prodded the inside of his mouth with her tongue, hands cupping the back of his neck and body shifting so that her knees were either side of his legs. It was his wish come true. All that was missing was the grinding, but he knew that would come eventually.

_'Clary, stop!'_ his voice sounded weak even in thought-form, but words were the only way he could get through to her now. Physically restraining her would only result in a role-reversal and he was already hard and ready to penetrate. _'Clarissa.'_

_'Look,'_ Clary began, pulling back to look at him straight in the eye. _'I know that this is wrong- that nobody can ever find out, but I've accepted that…and I've accepted that this is what I am. I'll never be able to touch another guy- not without feeling disgusting and like I'm betraying you. I'll never love anyone else…never get married…have children, unless I adopt- but what sort of mother would I be? Without you, I'm only half a person, half alive…'_

_'That's not true,'_ Jonathan cut her off, but his tone was gentle as he tucked his sister's hair behind her ears. _'If you were cut in half, you would die,' _he cleared his throat at the sudden wave of nausea the thought triggered. Clary rolled her eyes half-heartedly and then her brows furrowed again.

_'I tried to kiss Simon once, a long time ago,'_ she smiled at the look Jonathan gave her before continuing. _'It's funny. It felt like I was kissing a relative…like the way it should feel to kiss you. I don't know if I could endure a lifetime of that,'_

_'Maybe Simon's just not a great kisser,'_ Jonathan reasoned shortly, shifting uncomfortably; he had a feeling his sister was only trying to relax his defence, so that she could go in for the kill- and he hoped she would succeed just as much as he wished he'd never been born.

_'That's just it. He was one mark off perfect. He did everything right,_' the redhead replied, removing his tie and letting it fall to the floor.

_'But you had no one to compare it to,'_ Jonathan countered, easily catching at her wrists and holding them still.

_'I guess…'_ Clary murmured reluctantly before her face flushed._ 'Although, half way through I started to imagine it was you and...'_

_'Well, there you go, problem solved…' _he replied, his voice sounding huskier than usual as his eyes avoided his sisters look of disbelief.

_'You want me to go through my whole life like that?_' she questioned, her expression caught between hurt and rage. _'And you'd do the same?'_

"I already do." Jonathan lied expertly, manoeuvring Clary- frozen in surprise- off his legs. He immediately strode towards his bedroom. It was only part lie; the local bike in his year group gave him head whenever he needed to release tension, but he'd never slept with her- the thought alone sickened him to the point where he couldn't get it up even if he wanted to. If he'd expected that to be enough of a shock to put the redhead off, he'd be disappointed. Clary slammed the door as she entered the room behind him.

"I don't believe you," she said in a fierce tone, although Jonathan couldn't help but notice the way her voice cracked. He couldn't turn around and face her now; if his words had upset her enough to bring her to tears, one look and he'd cave.

"Believe what you want. Its still true- how else do you think I've lasted this long? I'm not as strong as you think." His voice was still thick, but his composure was intact for now. He squeezed his eyes shut to stop them from wandering in the direction of his bed, which in turn, further provoked erotic thoughts and feelings within him. Clary was quiet for a short eternity, making it increasingly difficult for him to restrain himself from turning around. And then when he thought it couldn't get any worse, he heard a sniff. Gradually glancing over his shoulder, he watched as his sister angrily scrubbed at her eyes. All his energy seemed to melt and drain from his body, his face tightening with regret and concern. Slowly, he drew her to him, locking his arms around her waist and sighed. He made soothing noises as he listened to the gasps and whimpers that were escaping her mouth, hugging her shuddering frame.

_'I've…I haven't slept with anyone…'_ he admitted finally, with another sigh. He knew he should have let her go on, believing he had, but he just couldn't stand to have her crying anymore, especially not over him. Clary pulled back to look at him, salty water trickling down her cheeks.

_'So you were lying…'_ her voice was a lost murmur inside his head, but a smile was beginning to tug at the corners of her lips. His hands were resting on her waist now and he couldn't seem to force himself back a step; he was trapped, again. Only this time his iron will wasn't there to keep him in check. The redhead had him cornered, right where she wanted him and she didn't even know it yet. Not until he pressed his body closer to hers, leaning down to capture her mouth with his.

Clary's mouth against his while he was saying no, the previous night and fifteen minutes earlier, was unbearably good. His mouth against hers now that he- or his body- was saying yes was agonisingly good. As he slid his tongue into her mouth, he couldn't stop the moan that instantly followed. He could just make out the tiny gasps his sister was making, as he continued to attack her more submissive tongue with his own. Before he could register Clary's fingers clumsily undoing the buttons on his shirt, he found himself already pulling at the bow that was holding her wrap dress together. He broke away from her mouth as the material parted, revealing that his sister was not only braless, but wearing a crimson thong that shimmered like satin, with black lacing.

_'You dressed like this for a date with Simon.'_ His tone was severe, but his black eyes were busy hungrily, travelling over the expanse of her creamy skin.

'I guess I put all my eggs in one basket…thankfully, your jealousy won through,' she murmured, her face bright red as she brought her brothers mouth back down to hers.

Her dress was quickly discarded in a heap, on the floor at her feet, the rest of their clothes soon joining it. Jonathan glided his hands from his sisters shoulder blades down over the soft curve of her bum and then back up and round to her ribs, his right hand continuing up to cup her breast, his thumb flicking back and forth over her nipple. His mind was gone, completely taken over by instinct and desire; he was a cheetah feasting on a particularly feisty antelope. Feisty in all the best ways. A smirk quirked his lips as he moved his mouth to ravage the redheads neck. Clary's nails raked his back, squirming and attempting to bite back moans at the same time as bending her neck, to give her brother's tongue and teeth more space to roam.

"Jonathan…" it took him a minute to realise that Clary was trying to get his attention and then he was tumbling onto his bed, his sister spread beneath him. They were both panting heavily, every inch of their bodies singing with electricity where they touched. Jonathan kissed her again, more sensually than passionately this time, his fingers tangling in her fiery curls. He felt her pelvis tilt up, rubbing against his erection and causing him to suck in a breath, his eyes rolling back. He shifted slightly and took his sister's left breast into his mouth, swirling his tongue around her pert nub, while his lower half slowly moved his hard-on against her leg; he sensed pre-cum leak onto her thigh. He probably looked like a horny dog right then, rather than an elegant cheetah, but he was too focused on exploring his sister's pleasure region with a free hand to care. If he wasn't already convinced that Clary wanted this as much as him, he would now. She bucked again, more violently than before as his fast-dampening fingers brushed against her clitoris. He played with it for a moment, transfixed by the way the redhead was writhing and mewling, her grip on his shoulders like a vice. But he couldn't wait any longer. And they'd wasted enough time as it was; he didn't want to think about the consequences of their mother walking in- or worse yet, their father. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he got into position.

_'Do it,'_ she whispered to his mind, biting her lip; her emerald eyes, though half-cast, were unwavering as onyx hesitated. A part of the white-blond boy's conscience had returned, screaming at him from a distance. Jonathan split a glance between his throbbing member in hand, Clary and her weeping hole. He exhaled past the blockage obstructing his airways and pressed a kiss to his sister's forehead. It was too late to turn back now that Clary's naked body was laid out before him, in all its glory.

"Okay. Just this once…"

* * *

**_I feel like this droned on a bit, but oh well. Hope you liked :)_**


	3. Chapter 3

-3-

* * *

Jonathan lay on his back, bathing in his afterglow. His sense still had yet to return to him, but for now, he was relaxed. His head was a cluster of clouds, a comfortable breeze passing through him, loosening the knots of tension that had been growing and tightening since the very first inappropriate day dream he'd had of his sister- even if just for a fraction of time. The suns brilliant rays shone down on them, illuminating Clary in all her naked heat. And Jonathan smiled the most genuine, heartfelt- albeit, blissed out- smile he possessed. Because the honour had been bestowed upon _him_ to perform the deed of guiding his sister to womanhood. There could not be a more perfect moment for Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern…until thunder struck. It came in the sound of the front door opening and shutting and only just carried through the haze in the white-blonds head. He shot up into a sitting position, jostling Clary by accident, who had been lying contentedly across his chest. Faster than he'd ever moved in his life, Jonathan leapt off the bed, all but diving for his boxers and other articles of clothing. He glanced behind him at his sister, who was rooted to the spot, eyes wide and frantic.

_'Clary!'_ he hissed urgently as he worked on the buttons of his shirt. She met his gaze for a split second and then began to stumble towards her dress.

"Jonathan? Clary?" it was their mother's voice calling them. Jonathan released an internal sigh of relief that it wasn't their father, but he picked up speed either way, fumbling with his belt buckle. Clary was quicker than him, given that she'd only been wearing a dress, although she kicked her thong under his bed as the panic started to get to her and fled with just one glance back at him.

_'Jonathan-'_ the redhead's voice flew to his mind even as she put physical distance between them, but he cut her off.

_'Don't, Clary. Just don't.'_

He had lost. Again. But this time, it hadn't been just a practise round of a game of cards; it had been the real thing. And there was no going back. He'd slept with Clary- he'd had sex with his sister. And she'd been a virgin to top it all off. He'd tainted her, corrupted her. And he'd loved every second of it. Jonathan covered his eyes with a hand as he felt bile rise in the back of his throat. Anger closely followed the realisation of what he'd done. He was angry at himself for doing it, angry at Clary for letting it happen, so angry that his body shook with it. And then to make it worse, the memory of the dirty deed came flooding through his mind; freeze-frames of Clary, back arched in ecstasy, the sound of her moaning his name, the feeling of cumming inside of her. His dick was getting hard just from remembering- and it had only happened mere minutes ago. Jonathan felt like he was going crazy, like his head was going to split open with all the rage, despair and erotica building up within it. He roughly rubbed his face a few times before sinking onto the end of his bed and holding his head in his hands.

_…Ahhh…_

_Don't worry…the pain will fade…_

_Don't stop…_

_…I want you so much…_

_…I lo-hnh, Jonathan-!_

_Clarissa…_

He could still feel the indent of her nails on his back, stinging faintly; he licked his lips, sorrowful, dark eyes falling shut.

"Jonathan?" he looked up, his hands slowly bracing on the bed either side of him. Jocelyn Morgenstern stood in the doorway, her hair tied at the nape of her neck and her green eyes worried. "What's wrong, honey?" Jonathan sighed inwardly as his mother approached him and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Nothing…just a headache," he reassured her, lightly shrugging away from her touch.

"Oh, do you need to take something?" she asked, pressing a palm to his forehead.

"No. I'm fine, really," the white-blond answered, trying his best to smile at his mother; hopefully it didn't look as forced as it felt.

"No, thank you," Jocelyn corrected, ruffling her sons hair before turning back towards the door.

"No, thank you,"

"I'm making dinner- Clary's helping. It should be ready in about twenty minutes, okay?" she paused, her hand on the door handle as Jonathan got up and went over to his chest of drawers, preparing to change out of his school uniform. His hands were trembling slightly from the effort of stalling the breakdown he was in the middle of and he wished his mother would hurry up and leave so he could scream into his pillow or punch the wall or something else, preferably destructive.

"Oh and by the way, I wont tell your father about those, so you can relax," he looked at her in confusion, catching her gaze cut pointedly towards a certain crimson undergarment poking out from under his bed. Jonathan stiffened, his mouth going dry as he tried to stay calm. "Just as long as it doesn't happen again. I'm sure shes a lovely girl, whoever she is, but I won't have that sort of thing going on under this roof, Jonathan. Alright?" Jonathan closed his mouth, which had opened with a dozen possible excuses ready to roll off his tongue.

"I…it wont happen again, I promise," he responded belatedly, his voice sounding stronger by the end. "Do you think it's a good idea to leave Clary alone in the kitchen without supervision?" he added, smoothly changing the subject, although the thought of Clary sent a jolt through his body. Jocelyn rolled her eyes, smiling fondly at her son.

"Its okay, we haven't turned the stove on yet- shes chopping carrots,"

"Even more so…" Jonathan continued, almost pulling off a smirk.

"Alright, alright," his mother grinned at him, waving a hand and shaking her head as she left the room, shutting the door behind her. Jonathan blew out a breath, his legs almost giving out from the weight momentarily lifting from his shoulders. His black eyes flickered to Clary's thong. He retrieved it from the floor, running his thumbs across the shimmery material. His eyelids fluttered closed as he allowed himself to remember the way she'd looked wearing it. And then how she'd looked _not_ wearing it. His grip tightened, the skin over his knuckles straining and then he opened his eyes. He was so weak he could barely cope with it. It was going to keep happening- he knew it. As long as his sister continued to seek him out, he would keep submitting. It had to stop- the more times he indulged himself in Clary's natural juices, the harder it would become to end it. Scrunching up the red thong, he tucked it into the back of his underwear draw- he'd probably masturbate to the smell of it later on when he couldn't sleep. Of course, that would never compare to the real thing now that he'd had a taste of it, but he needed to put his foot down once and for all. He was going to avoid Clary as skilfully as he could and still his urges enough to prevent temptation should he fail at the first. Even if it meant jacking himself off numerous times a day to curb his sex drive, he would do it. He'd long ago accepted that he couldn't change, let alone weaken the incestuous feelings he harboured for his sister, but now, with the sexual act they'd committed fresh in his mind- in which condition it would most likely stay forever- he decided he was going to try. He'd just have to avoid her until he no longer wanted to molest her every time he saw her and could once again look himself in the mirror. Maybe it would be easier if he got a lock for his bedroom door. As Jonathan continued along that chain of thought, he stripped off his shirt. He paused, clean top in hand and subconsciously glanced in the direction of Clary's room. The bond they shared was unique, almost like they were twins, although Jonathan had been born a year earlier. He knew pushing his sister away was necessary, as incredibly difficult as it was. But no matter what, he never wanted to break that bond. It was like his lifeline- as long as it existed, so too did he. And what if Clary didn't back down? What if she persisted in the naïve belief that they could actually be together? They might end up resenting- maybe even hating- each other for the rest of their lives. As good an idea as that should have seemed, Jonathan dreaded it. He kept telling himself it was necessary and that he could control his dark desires, but it hadn't worked. A picture of Clary's tear-stained face floated to the forefront of his mind then. The thought of his sister looking at him with those crest-fallen eyes for the rest of his already-miserable life sent shivers down his spine- and not the pleasurable kind either. He knew he had to do the right thing to protect her, but right now all he could think was: who would truly benefit from it, in the end?

* * *

The following day, Clary was distracted. She breezed through school spacing in and out of lessons, until she was making her way home. Simon was with her, complaining about an essay they'd been given that was due next week, but her mind was elsewhere. _Jonathan_. He hadn't been at breakfast, but she'd noticed him briskly leaving the school gates while she'd waited for Simon to collect his P.E. kit from his locker. She'd wanted to run after him, but something about the extreme concentration on his face had made her stop. And then she'd known; he was going to pretend like nothing had happened. She thought she'd feel angry- scorned- images flying to her head of slapping him across the face and saying it served him right for using her. But no, all the redhead had felt was empty. She still did- and it was getting worse the closer she drew to home. She'd spent the entire day recalling the evening before, remembering the way he'd touched her, looked at her, undid her. She could still feel the ghost of his lips in every inch of her skin. She'd been so happy. But now it was ruined, tarnished. The bubble had well and truly burst. And yet she could still picture the way he'd looked afterwards- like he'd been trapped at the bottom of a dark, damp well for eons, all hope of someone ever finding him lost, only to look up and find a gilded ladder materialise in front of him. Clary's eyes pricked and she bit her lip, trying to hold back the tears threatening to surface.

"…Clary? Are you listening? Earth to Clary…"

"Huh?" Simon was looking at her with mild irritation, before it morphed into concern.

"Are you okay? You look like someone died…" Clary shook her head quickly, attempting to smile as her best friends frown deepened.

"I'm fine. Just, um, tired," she hastily recovered, her voice a little weak. "What were you saying?"

"Oh, er, about yesterday…" the dark haired boy gave an awkward shrug, looking away.

"What about yesterday?" Clary asked quietly, her heart practically stopping.

"You know, our cinema-date-thing…" Simon elaborated, grimacing in embarrassment.

Clary blinked, a puzzled look crossing her face. "Oh, that. Right…"

"I was wondering if you wanted to go tomorrow instead, or maybe this weekend…?" he said, nervously tucking a stray lock of his hair behind his ear.

"Um…" Clary looked down as they came to a halt outside her apartment block, visibly hesitating.

"We don't have to," Simon started to back track, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. "Or it doesn't have to be a date-"

"Just as friends?" Clary said, her face softening with sympathy.

"Sure," he nodded vigorously, although she could see the disappointment in his eyes.

"Maybe this weekend," she smiled, leaning up to give him a light peck on the cheek. "I'm sorry if I lead you on…"

"Don't worry about it. I knew it was too good to be true…" Simon looked away, a blush colouring his features.

"Its not you-"

"Really, Clary. How long have we known each other? You don't have to explain yourself to me," he brushed her off, flashing a knowing smile.

"No, Simon, I…I like someone else…so that's why…" the redhead chewed her bottom lip, glancing up at her living room window.

"Oh," was all his response. Clary was almost glad- she didn't know what she'd say if he started asking her about who this 'someone' was.

"So, anyway. Are we good…?" the redheads emerald gaze held his coffee one for a moment. Simon sighed, shaking his head once.

"Obviously. I'm your only friend- apart from your brother, and he doesn't count," he teased, nudging her shoulder with his, not seeing how her face tightened at the mention of her brother. "I can't abandon you now, can I?"

"Thanks, Simon," she murmured, resting her head against his arm.

"Anytime," he said, wrapping his arms around her. They stayed like that for a while, Clary closing her eyes at the nugget of relief she was feeling. "I better get going,"

"Okay,"

"See you tomorrow morning," Simon gave her a wink and then started down the road.

"Bye!" she called after him. Slowly, she turned towards her block, her eyebrows furrowing. _Maybe he isn't home yet…maybe._

* * *

When Clary closed the front door behind her, she was welcomed only by silence. Reluctantly, she went through to the living room. She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and half-slumped against the back of the sofa. Empty. Unexpected disappointment swelled in her chest as she shrugged out of her school blazer. He was probably hiding away in his bedroom, hoping she didn't come knocking. If he was home at all. Clary straightened up and hurried to her bedroom, pushing down the negative thoughts and feelings that were trying to rise. Blazer dragging on the floor behind her, she reached for her door. That was when she heard it- the sound of running water drifting across the hall; someone was in the shower. Clary's heart skipped and then began pounding as she glanced behind her at the closed bathroom door. It could only be one person- the very person she wasn't sure she wanted to see right now. And yet slowly, she found herself setting her bag down, draping her blazer over it and stepping towards the bathroom. If her brother had left the door unlocked, there was no way she was going to throw away this opportunity. Placing her hand on the door handle, she bit her lip and applied the slightest amount of pressure. The door opened. She pushed it just wide enough to peer around it, her face warming up from the combination of what she was seeing and the humid air she was now exposed to. Clary's breathing grew thinner and thinner as she took in the strong lines of her brothers back. He was standing with his face uplifted to the shower head, letting the water stream over the sharp angles of his face and the taut frame of his body. From this angle, Clary could just see that his eyes were closed and his lips were parted. The scene before her brought back the memory of the previous evening clearer than ever, causing her to flush and compelling her all the way into the room. She gently shut the door, her wide green eyes never leaving her brother, transfixed by the way the water droplets were rolling off his flawless skin.

_"Don't worry, Clary. The pain will fade soon," Jonathan whispered into her ear; the redheads face gradually smoothed out, as she adjusted to the feeling of her brothers rather big, hard shaft inside of her. The atmosphere as well as the air, was stifling due to the melding together of their radiating body heat. Somehow, having him hot and rigid between her thighs but not moving, was driving her half-wild with anticipation. However, just as she was about to voice these thoughts, he managed to push deeper into her- she hadn't thought that possible- before slowly withdrawing and then filling her again. They exchanged a synchronised moan as he paused for a second time; her brothers muscles were practically vibrating under her hands, from the restraint he was exercising so as not to hurt her._

_"Don't stop," she breathed, grazing his earlobe with her teeth. He let out a feral growl before he started up a gentle but firm, regular rhythm to his thrusts, swallowing down the wanton noises that instantly began pouring from his sister's mouth._

_'Clary?'_ the person in question was snapped out of the memory, to find a pair of fathomless eyes confronting her. Jonathan's body was turned halfway towards her, but he wasn't wearing the furious expression she would have expected. On the contrary, her brother was displaying nothing but infinite calm. _'Was there something you wanted?'_

"Yes." She answered; her voice was barely above a whisper, but she caught the change in his face that let her know he'd heard her. On cue, she began undressing, clawing at the coarse material of her school uniform that suddenly felt constrictive. Jonathan was motionless, mildly glaring at her and seeming caught between one thought and the next. Unfortunately for him, Clary could see enough of his throbbing penis to boost her confidence. After all, there was no longer any doubt in her mind who and what her brother yearned for most. She was down to her simple, cotton bra and knickers now- there wasn't much time to feel self-conscious about her typically boring choice of underwear today and it wasn't like her already flushed face could get any redder.

"Clary…" Jonathan started, the thick quality to his voice surpassing his pleading tone. She met his black gaze as she swiftly unhooked her bra and let it slide off her arms. His features contorted into beautiful confliction, torn between lust and propriety. She didn't pause before pulling down her knickers and stepping out of them. It strangely thrilled her to torment her brother this way and it was worth it just to see his fair skin heat up along his cheekbones. Clary pulled the hair band from her hair, feeling her red curls bounce around her shoulders, before carefully stepping into the tub and moving towards her brother. Jonathan's jaw worked as she pressed up against him; he in turn, backed up against the tiles so that she was now directly under the shower, the water dampening her hair and slicking her skin.

_'Do you need help with that…?'_ she murmured to his mind, reaching down to give his dick a stroke as she smiled innocently up at him. He caught her wrist, holding it away from his body and scowled down at her.

_'No. I don't.'_ he replied, sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than her; Clary quirked her eyebrows, her smile widening ever so slightly.

_'I'm sure I can change your mind…'_ she made to grasp his member with her free hand, but he caught it just in time.

_'_Clarissa_.'_ His tone was like steel and the redhead was struck by how much he'd sounded like their father in that moment.

_'I can't pretend that there's nothing between us, Jonathan, even if you can,'_ she told him then, sighing in frustration. _'And I don't want to!'_

_'You're acting like a child,'_ Jonathan retorted, shaking his head and releasing his grip on her wrists.

_'_I'm_ acting like a child?'_ Clary repeated, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

_'Not everything's about what _you _want, Clary,'_ he shot back. _'What about what _I_ want?'_

_'What are you talking about? I know what you want- it's the same thing I want,'_ Clary's voice took on a soothing lilt in an attempt to placate him.

_'Just because I want you, doesn't mean I'm glad about it,'_ Jonathan told her bluntly, his eyes like black holes, sucking her in only to drown her.

_'What do you mean?'_ the redhead formed the question in his mind without really thinking about it. Her heart felt heavy in her chest, as if someone had chained it in lead.

_'I never wanted this,'_ he said in a deadly low voice, devoid of all emotion. She couldn't read his expression either. _'Who would? To feel this way about your own sister…it's twisted,'_

Clary shook her head, feeling hot tears stinging her eyes. _'Stop. You don't mean that- I know it's not normal but it's-'_

_'Disgusting. What we did yesterday made me realise just how sickening it is. And don't go entertaining delusions of love. It's nothing but warped sexual desire. Meaningless-'_

_'I know what you're doing, but its not going to work!'_ the redhead mentally shouted, her throat burning from holding her tears at bay.

_'Right now, all I want is to fuck you up against the wall…'_ Jonathan continued, his tone frigid, as if the forgotten water cascading between them had started running cold, thawing his veins. _'But it's the most repulsive feeling I've ever known.'_ Clary froze, stunned into silence. The first salty tear fell before she remembered to breathe again. The look in her brother's eyes was both remorseless and relentless.

_'I…I…'_ she held back a sob as she stared up at him, devastated. He was supposed to be her other half...

_'That is what I really think. You were so caught up in your own selfish needs, you didn't even see that.'_

_'…I don't know who you are anymore…'_ it was like someone had replaced her brother with a doppelganger; he looked and sounded like Jonathan, but he wasn't. Not anymore. Clary backed away, crying silently as she turned away from him to step out of the tub and start gathering up her clothes. She didn't bother putting them on, just moved to the door, preparing to leave. She stopped and glanced back at him over her shoulder.

"The other night when you didn't come home; it was because of this, wasn't it?" the redhead's voice didn't crack and her tone was as flat as her brothers. He had his back to her now so she couldn't see his face, but she could see the tension in the lines of his shoulders. "I thought we'd be happy- that you would be happy- if we didn't have to lie to each other about our feelings anymore, even if no one else could know. I thought that would make things easier. Really, I just didn't want you to keep torturing yourself over it. Maybe I was being selfish, acting like a petulant child, but I think it's you who hasn't fully acknowledged the situation- even refusing to. I guess you can't embrace something you can't accept…well, you don't have to now. You win. I won't fight you anymore; I don't have the energy for it. But just so you know: it wasn't just sex for me. Maybe our feelings weren't the same after all…" with that, she left the room, closing the door softly, but surely behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

-4-

* * *

Jonathan stared at the closed door, unseeing. He'd done it, he'd actually don't it. He was off the hook- Clary had given in, given up. But the pressure and tension he'd learned to live with for the past four years didn't evaporate like it should have. He mechanically turned off the shower, no longer feeling the heat of the water. His hand was trembling as he lifted it to wipe the moisture from his eyes. He stepped out of the bath and lowered himself to the floor, eyelids falling shut as he leaned his head back. His mind was eerily quiet and for a moment, he was afraid that the wavelength that bridged his and Clary's thoughts had been irreparably fractured. Not that he was willing to test it. No, it would be better for the both of them if he left her alone. Perhaps in time, she would come around to his way of thinking and their friendship- their bond- could be salvaged. He refused to think about the possibility of his sister never speaking to him again.

His gaze drifted down to his hard-on, mocking him with its insistence. With a muted sigh, he took it in his hand and began to pump. It was almost surprising that it still wasn't beneath him to imagine it was his sisters wet cavern rather than his damp hand bringing him to climax. And it was easy too, now that he'd experienced it first hand. As he sat there, fantasising about his sister and jacking himself off, it was like nothing had changed. And yet, everything had changed. At best, Clary was indifferent to him now, which was more than he could have asked for, but his longing for her remained steadfast. Only part of the problem had been solved but there was nothing he could do about the rest. The calculations had been made, only to be left without an answer.

_…I can't pretend…you don't mean that…I thought we'd be happy…our feelings weren't the same after all…_

Jonathan pumped his dick faster, trying to block out the look on Clary's face before she'd left him and focused on the image of her naked and yielding, in the steamy shower. He hadn't been lying when he'd said he wanted to fuck her up against the wall; it had been agonisingly tempting and she would have enjoyed it- he would have made sure of that. But he'd made the right choice and his sister would understand someday. She'd have to.

The white-blond was panting when he finally came, semen coating his hand and stomach. He licked his lips, attempting to grasp the sense of satisfaction that usually followed release, but he came up empty. He didn't want his hand dripping with sperm, he wanted to paint the inside of his sister with it. By screwing her, he'd inadvertently screwed himself over; nothing was ever going to feel good enough now- Clary was the only one who could sate his sexual appetite. He pounded the floor with his fist, exasperation pushing him to the limit. Maybe Clary was right- maybe things would be easier if they just gave in to desire. While nobody knew about it, there was nothing to worry about. Or they could wait until they were adults and rent a flat together. Nobody they knew would find it odd because they'd always been close. And even if people eventually became suspicious, when neither of them showed any interest in romantic entanglement- other than their own secret one- they could just cut ties and move away. Jonathan absently picked at the dried cum on his hand, staring blindly off to the side. The idea wasn't entirely impossible- for all anyone knew, there could be dozens of siblings out there who lived like that. The only thing really holding him back was himself. For years, he'd believed Clary to be something he'd never have, but in just days he'd found out how wrong he'd been. Clary wanted him in exactly the same way and in the end that was all that was really needed for his dreams to come true.

The white-blond swallowed hard as he remembered what he'd said to her. It was too late for him to crawl out of his cave of self-denial now. His sister didn't want anything more to do with him and he couldn't blame her. All it had taken was one flimsy lie. And the implication that he didn't love her, he suddenly realised. He swore under his breath, the picture of her closing the door on him floating to the forefront of his mind. In all honesty, although Jonathan loved his sister, he'd never thought about whether he was _in_ love with her. He wasn't sure it was possible to feel two different kinds of love for one person. He loved her as a brother loves his sister, but there was the sexual obsession he held for her as well, which definitely didn't stem from love. But he couldn't in all consciousness, rule out the possibility that he was in love with her.

Perhaps Clary only thought she was in love with him, in an obscure way of romanticising their lust for each other. But Jonathan couldn't remember a time when his sister had ever come off as the romantic type. When they were young, Clary had been a tomboy, which was probably a result of having only an elder brother to play with and a mother who lived in t-shirts and jeans for ninety percent of the time. Not much had changed since then, accept for puberty and the habit of dolling herself up for special occasions. The white-blond supposed it was safe to say, that either one of them could easily mistake want for love.

However, none of this would change the fact that he'd rejected her again and she'd finally taken the hint. Why was he wasting all this time speculating, when it was all said and done? Stifling the absurd urge to laugh bitterly at himself, he got up off the floor and moved to finish his shower.

* * *

Three and a half hours later, Jonathan sat at the dinner table, methodically cutting up his sausages. Clary was sat next to him, as she did every night, although he was probably the only one who noticed that her chair was significantly further away from his. Opposite them, their mother seemed to be picking up on the weird atmosphere that had settled between her children, while their father Valentine Morgenstern, appeared oblivious, merely digging into his food, pausing every now and then to take a sip of his wine. Clary had done nothing but push peas around her plate for the past five minutes, never looking in her brother's direction. He sent her a few discreet side glances as he noticed their mothers frown growing more and more pronounced.

"You're both very quiet tonight," Jocelyn commented finally, scooping a forkful of mashed potato into her mouth, before returning her gaze to her children. Jonathan speared a chunk of sausage but made no move to eat it.

"Tired." He answered non-committal, smiling slightly at her. Clary mumbled something along the lines of it being a long day and left it at that.

"Really?" their mother looked doubtful but let it go. "Oh, I almost forgot; me and your father are going away this weekend, so you'll have the place all to yourselves," she smiled softly at Valentine, as she drank from her glass.

"Yes. We're leaving Friday evening and coming back Sunday afternoon," their father told them, a relaxed expression gracing his sharp features as he put his hand on his wife's, brushing his thumb backwards and forwards across her knuckles.

"We'll leave you some running money and I'll stock up the fridge," Jocelyn added, although Jonathan was momentarily distracted by the motion of Clary setting down her cutlery on her full plate of food.

"I trust you to make sure your sister doesn't starve, Jonathan," their father said, grabbing his attention back.

"Actually, I was planning on packing her off to Simons," he replied smoothly, his lips quirking up into a smirk.

"I thought you might say that. In which case, you would have to stay there with her; you know the rules. And I know how fond you are of the Lewis boy," Valentine chuckled at his sons look of displeasure.

"Simons a sweet boy," Jocelyn interjected in an injured tone.

"Of course, my dear. No one was suggesting otherwise," Valentine gave his wife a suave grin before sending his son a wink. Jocelyn rolled her eyes.

"May I be excused, please?" Jonathan glanced sideways at his sister; she was looking down, fiery curls obscuring his view of her face.

"You haven't finished your food," their father said, the bridge of his nose creasing faintly, in disapproval. "Your mother spent time cooking this meal for us. Are you going to throw it back in her face?"

"Clary's not feeling well," Jonathan cut in, warily. Their fathers black gaze flickered back to him, a stern edge forming within the dark pools.

"Oh?" Valentine taunted more than prompted, raising his eyebrows. "You haven't touched your food either. And yet you are well enough to use that insolent tone,"

"Aren't you hungry, Clary?" Jocelyn said gently, the concern quickly returning to her face. Jonathan saw his sister shake her head in his peripheral vision.

"If its waste you're worried about, Dad, I'll have Clary's as well as my own," he said, reaching his hand over to slide his sister's plate towards him.

"No, its fine-" Clary hastily put out her hand to stop him. Their eyes met a fraction after her fingers made contact with his skin, Jonathan refraining from snatching his hand back. His face was as still as a statue, as he withdrew, concentrating on lifting his glass of diluted wine to his lips; his free hand was clenched into a tight ball in his lap.

"Me and your brother can share your plate if you're really not feeling well, honey,"

"No, it's okay, Mum. I shouldn't have made a fuss. Sorry, Father," without another word, Clary picked up her fork and began eating.

"If you feel like you're going to be sick, Clary, you probably shouldn't eat," Jocelyn continued, green eyes wide. "You do look pale…"

"Your mother's right," Valentine spoke then, wiping his mouth on his napkin. "Go to bed early and get some rest."

"Thank you," Clary murmured belatedly, pushing back her chair. "Goodnight Father; 'night Mum," she kissed them both on the cheek before making her way out of the room.

"We love you, honey. Feel better," Jocelyn smiled.

"Love you too," Clary managed a weak smile before closing the door. Jonathans gaze wandered after her for a moment, wanting to follow her even if only with his thoughts.

"We'll share it between the three of us," his father stated serenely, returning the pressure of his wife's hand. Called out of his reverie, Jonathan nodded vaguely and retrieved his knife and fork.

* * *

By Friday evening, Clary and her brother still hadn't spoken a word to each other. Their parents had already left on their romantic weekend to Venice and Clary was sprawled out on her bed, working on her graphic novel to occupy her mind. Not that it was helping- her haunted hero was starting to look all too much like Jonathan. She'd thought about spending the weekend at Simons- she knew her brother would back her up that she'd been home, if their father inquired- but all she really wanted to do was mope around her bedroom, even if it meant being alone in the same space as him. However, she'd invited Simon round on Sunday afternoon, partly so that she didn't have to spend it not talking to her brother and partly to annoy him. They were going to take up the living room, sharing a tub of sweet popcorn, in front of a DVD. If Jonathan didn't like it, he'd just have to suck it up.

At dinner time, there was merely a knock at the door, letting her know that he'd made food. She found a bowl of chilli con carne waiting for her in the dining room, but her brother was no where to be seen. She guessed he'd taken his food into the living room to eat in front of the TV, but she didn't join him, only taking her bowl back to her bedroom with her. It was strange, tip-toeing around each other like this. She couldn't remember a single time when they'd had an argument or fallen out in the past. It was like they were so in tune with each other, that it had been near-impossible to upset one another unless they'd wanted to. But they had never wanted to. Even now, Clary couldn't believe that Jonathan had said all those things to be deliberately vindictive. Although it had hurt all the same, it wasn't because she'd believed him exactly, rather because her brother had wanted her to. He'd been trying to make her hate him and for the briefest of moments, she had. But she understood his reasons for it. She'd been forcing the issue because she knew that being with him would truly make her happy and she'd thought it would be the same for him. But maybe she'd been wrong; maybe it would only further fuel his self-loathing. She had to admit that in that moment in the bathroom, their incestuous feelings had turned him into someone barely recognisable and she didn't want that.

_…It's nothing but warped sexual desire…_

A shudder past through her body at the remembered words and she put aside her cold food to curl up in bed. When it came to that particular lie, she wasn't completely certain that that was what is was. She didn't know how her brother really felt about her. The most likely scenario was that it _was_ just sex to him and if that was the case, she wasn't surprised he didn't want to embark on a full-blown relationship with her- it would never work out. But she couldn't pretend that she'd lost all hope. When they'd slept together, he hadn't been rough with her, he'd been patient- or as patient as was possible in those circumstances- and he'd been tender. It had been like seeing yet another side to him, finding another piece of his soul to hold on to. It hadn't been just a quick fix; even though it had been Clary's first sexual encounter, she could still tell he hadn't been mistreating her or taking advantage. She only wished she'd known then, that it would be both their first and last time together…

* * *

_Clary was dreaming. She was standing in a field of white magnolias, the wind whipping her red hair across her face. But she wasn't in her normal body; she was six years old again, in khaki shorts and a vest top, her feet bare. Hesitantly, she began wading through the flowers, glancing around herself and looking for any signs of life. And then she saw him. Her brother. He was standing in all his seventeen years, looking at her across the expanse that stretched out between them. He was wearing a loose white shirt that was blowing violently in the wind and flashing patches of skin here and there. On his legs were plain jeans, but Clary couldn't tell from here, whether he was bare foot as well or not. He smiled at her faintly, lifting his hand to give a slight- almost shy- wave, just like he used to do when they were kids. It had always felt like an acknowledgement of their time apart- no matter how short- and a promise that regardless of the distance, they would always come home to each other, eventually. However, instead of walking towards her, dream-Jonathan slowly turned his back; it wasn't too far from reality._

_"Jonathan!" she started running to catch up with him. "Wait!" she stumbled a couple times in her haste, before she stopped trying to dodge the flowers that surrounded them, crushing their beautiful elegance under her feet. Soon, it became apparent that she was making neither progress, nor regress with her steps. Her brother couldn't hear her cries anymore._

'Jonathan! Don't go!'

* * *

_'Clary…?'_

The redhead frowned, rolling onto her back.

_'Clary,'_

She wearily cracked her eyes open, still mildly caught in the nightmare she wanted to forget as fast as possible. As her gaze landed on the figure leaning over her, she barely suppressed a scream, her heart leaping into her mouth.

"You scared me," she complained half-heartedly, reaching up to rub her eyes. "What time is it?" it took her a second for the abnormality of the situation to hit and another to realise she'd broken her vow of silence towards her brother. She sighed inwardly.

_'Past midnight,'_ he whispered into her mind. Clary looked at him for a long moment, taking all of him in; there were shadows under his eyes and his lips looked chapped from excessive licking- a nervous habit of his, reminiscent of her own habit of biting her lip. Nevertheless, Jonathan's overall expression was calm, open. His onyx eyes seemed careful but not guarded for once. Gradually, Clary sat up; she was still in her school uniform, shirt and skirt now crumpled- her tie lay on her bedside table next to the bowl of uneaten food from earlier. Without thinking, she began undoing the buttons on her shirt. She halted, her eyes flying up to gauge her brothers reaction. His black orbs were rooted to her partially-transparent, peach bra; his eyes rose to meet hers and then swiftly looked away. Clary flushed and awkwardly slipped out of bed, going over to her wardrobe with her pyjamas, using her wardrobe door as cover.

"So…" she said, curiosity getting the better of her, as to why Jonathan had woken her in the middle of the night, especially with all that had happened.

_'You were having a bad dream…'_ he told her by way of explanation, his mental-voice low. _'I heard you call my name…'_ the redhead paused from pulling on a pair of sky-blue, cotton shorts, her school shirt already replaced by a grey t-shirt; she'd left her bra on even though she never slept in them, because her brothers presence contributed enough to the tense atmosphere on its own.

"So, you came to see if I was okay," she clarified, closing her wardrobe and walking back over to her bed, dropping her uniform into the laundry basket as she went. "I don't see why. You didn't bother all those other times," she continued, her voice a lot less harsh than her words, as she stood in front of her brother.

_'Clary…'_ Jonathan stood up and looked down at her, his face tight.

"It doesn't matter now anyway. Can you leave, please?" she made to walk past him, but he put his hand on her waist to stop her.

_'Clary-'_

"Don't touch me!" she shoved him back a step, her face falling slightly at the look of shock on his.

He recovered however, and quickly enveloped her in his strong arms, burying his face in her neck and effectively trapping her. _'Clarissa,'_

Clary froze, her heart beating wildly against both of their chests. She felt tears well up in her wide emerald eyes then, as her brother repeated her name over and over, as if trying to soothe them both and regain some clarity.

_'I'm sorry.'_ She heard him take a ragged breath, his body trembling against hers.

"What for?" she croaked, not quite ready to return the embrace just yet. Jonathan pulled back a fraction, seeing his sister's tears and gently wiping them away with the tip of a finger.

_'For making you cry.'_ He finally murmured to her mind, leaning his forehead on hers. Clary fisted her hands into his top to keep him there, as she watched his eyes fall closed.

_'You better be,'_ she replied, the words tentatively brushing against the inside of his head.

Slowly, she cupped his face in her hands; his black eyes opened again, lidded, as he looked into her green wells. His lips parted as he nudged her nose with his. Clary swallowed, the static energy between their mouths practically tangible, until- after what seemed like forever to the redhead- his mouth connected with hers. Clary gasped and then gasped again when Jonathan slid his tongue inside and ran it along hers. Everything melted away; everything except for her, Jonathan and their interlocked lips. His hands pressed at the skin of her lower back beneath her t-shirt, as her fingers wound into his silky, ivory locks. She dragged his top lip through her teeth, drawing a satisfying groan from deep in his throat. As she nibbled along his jaw, she could hear him panting in her left ear, his breath stirring her hair.

"Let's go to bed," she purred both aloud and in his head, when her mouth reached his ear. Jonathan raised his hands to rest them on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing back and forth over her neck.

_'I...I want to hold you while you sleep,'_ he began quietly, swallowing as Clary gazed up at him. _'Like you always wished I would…'_ the redhead smiled, affectionately tucking the strands of hair that had fallen into his right eye behind his ear. She didn't say anything, simply nodded before kissing him again and leading him to the bed, hand clasped in hers.


	5. Chapter 5

-5-

* * *

When Clary woke the next morning, she was immediately aware of someone else's presence. She groggily looked down at the hand she was clutching to her chest; she stared at it through sleep-clouded vision, noting the slenderness of the fingers. It was an artists hand and it belonged to her brother. Not that he'd ever picked up a paint brush with the intention of actually painting something- it was usually to initiate a paint war with her, which always resulted in them covered from head to toe and being reprimanded by their father.

Flashes of the night before came to her then; Jonathan holding onto her tighter than he'd ever done before, apologising for the way he'd behaved that day in the bathroom, kissing her like they were the only two people left in the world- free from judgement. Clary didn't ever want to move, mostly because she had decided that she was in the most comfortable spot, but also because she was afraid that when her brother awoke, he would instantly regret seeking her out and go back to shunning her and their feelings. She leaned back into the steady rise and fall of his chest, counting the beats of his heart to ease her sudden bout of anxiety. Her head was tucked under his chin and their legs were tangled beneath the blanket; their bodies simply fit perfectly to each other as if they existed only for this purpose. As carefully as possible, she twisted round to face him. He shifted, eyebrows pulling together, but didn't wake. Clary propped herself up on an elbow slightly so that she could study his face while he slept. His eyelids were fluttering, his eyes moving beneath them; he was dreaming. She was a little disappointed, she would have liked a little longer to watch him- in deep sleep, Jonathan slept like the dead- but as it was, he'd be waking soon. Still, the redhead couldn't help but wonder what he was dreaming about. Gently, Clary brushed the ivory hair out of his face and ran the tip of her finger down the strong line of his nose. His lids fluttered again and his lips parted. A cheeky grin crossed Clary's face and she slowly leaned down to suck at his top lip, before swirling her tongue inside his mouth. There was something even more intoxicating about Jonathan's mouth when it wasn't dominating hers. His unresponsive lips, though chapped, were like velvet. The redhead glanced up to see her brother blinking away sleep, a baffled look on his face.

_'Morning,'_ she murmured into his mind, pulling back and stroking the back of her fingers over his jaw. His face gradually smoothed out and before Clary had time to react, he'd cupped her neck and brought her mouth back down to his. Her exclamation of surprise was muffled as they kissed. Jonathan rolled until he was successfully pinning her down, their lips never parting. Clary failed to suppress a giggle as her brother pressed his lips to her neck before resting his forehead against her shoulder.

_'You have an interesting way of waking people up…'_ he commented and she could hear the smirk in his intonation. _'I hope that's not why Simon keeps coming back for more,'_

"He's my best friend, idiot," Clary rolled her eyes, but she continued smiling- she couldn't seem to be able to stop. She suddenly felt stupid herself, for doubting him. "Why, are you jealous?" Jonathan lifted his head to give her an incredulous look.

"Jealous? I'm painfully irresistible, in case you hadn't noticed," Clary raised her eyebrows at his smug expression.

"I'm the only one who finds you attractive," she told him in a matter of fact way.

"Was that an insult or a compliment?"

"Well, you kind of come off as…unapproachable, to people who don't know you," she explained, tracing the outline of his shoulder blades through his top.

"But people do approach me," Jonathan pointed out as he went back to kissing her neck.

"What do they say?"

"Nothing. They come towards me but as soon as I look up, they continue past like nothing happened; I told you, I'm _painfully _attractive- people have a hard time admitting it," Clary felt him shrug his shoulders as she laughed lightly.

"I'm glad," she sighed, biting her lip as her brother ran the tip of his tongue up her neck. "If any of them plucked up the courage to try it on, I'd kill them." she added in a cool, detached voice. Jonathan snorted, looking at her with amusement sparking in his eyes.

"You would not kill them, Clary. You don't even kill spiders that get into the house," he smiled wryly at her.

"Of course not, spiders are cool. But you're right- I'd kill _you_ though, if I ever saw you with another girl," she warned, poking his chest for emphasis.

"How is that fair? I have to put up with you and Lewis all the time," her brother said indignantly.

_'Jonathan,'_

_'Clarissa. What makes you think I'd want anyone else, when I already have you?'_ he was smiling but there was a serious edge to his features. Clary sighed, bringing his forehead down on hers and closing her eyes.

"Maybe, because you're 'painfully irresistible'?" she teased, nudging his nose with hers.

"But I thought _you_ were the only person who finds me attractive?" Jonathan countered before bestowing a chaste kiss to her mouth.

"Touché," she said, but a frown formed on her face. "When the weekend ends, you're not gonna…" she trailed off as she gazed up into his onyx orbs. Jonathan mirrored her expression as he held her face in his hands.

"I'm not going to change my mind," he began firmly. "With this, it's all or nothing; I can't go back to not having you where you are right now. I don't think either of us can, so we're in this whether we like it or not."

"But, _do_ you like it? Or does it repulse you?" she asked timidly, pushing down the unwanted memory that was trying to surface. Jonathans face softened as she bit her lip and glanced away.

"Clary, I'm only ever repulsed by myself, not you-"

"I'm not talking about you and me, I'm talking about what we've done- what we do," the redhead interjected impatiently. "When we slept together…did you really enjoy it, or were you thinking about how wrong it was the whole time?"

"All I was thinking about was how good it felt to be inside of you. And since then, it's been almost all I've thought about," her brother licked his lips, shaking his head as his cheekbones coloured up. "I can't even masturbate anymore, without knowing how much it will never compare to doing you…" Clary laughed a little, sufficiently reassured as she touched the warm skin along her brothers cheekbones.

"Doing what to me, exactly?" she inquired mischievously, wrapping one of her legs around his waist.

_'This.'_ he kissed her long and lingering, as he slipped a hand beneath her t-shirt, moving it up to grasp her left breast, which incidentally was still encased in her peach bra. He made a noise of protest, prompting Clary to half sit up and unhook it. Her brother drew her t-shirt off her first and then the bra, flinging them to the side. He sucked in a breath as he took in the sight of her bare chest for the second time. She flushed, tentatively lifting his top up and over his head. Her brother's fair skin was so smooth; it was her third favourite thing about his looks, after his white-blond locks and his impossibly deep and dark eyes. Her own skin was milkier- not to mention freckled- whereas Jonathans was more translucent, luminous in the dark. He was like a marble statue, light and shadows, his black eyes captivating the eye of the beholder with their pupil-less appearance. Where most people saw mystery and charm, Clary saw world-weariness and self-disgust. But that wasn't what she was seeing right now. What she was seeing now was rapture, hunger and pure, unadulterated lust.

They were down to their underwear. Jonathan's mouth was ravaging her right breast, making her moan and writhe against him. Clary gasped and arched her back as she registered her brothers hand edge inside her knickers, searching for her entrance. He trailed kisses up from her breast to her jaw, catching her gaze and holding it as he pushed his middle finger into her. She bit down hard on her lip, her nails clawing at his shoulders, wishing it was another part of his body inside her instead of his finger. It seemed like Jonathans breathing was heavier than Clary's as he claimed her mouth passionately, while he fingered her hole. He withdrew his hand finally, to pull her knickers off her legs, shimmying out of his boxers soon after and throwing them over his shoulder. The moment she felt the length of him stiff and hot against her thigh, adrenaline shot through her veins, causing her lower body to tilt up and rub against it. Jonathan released an animalistic groan before attacking the redhead's neck again, so that she was mewling and squirming against his erection. She bit his shoulder and reached down to palm his member, revelling in the noises her brother started producing against the sensitive skin of her neck.

_'Clary- you'll make me-'_ he began urgently, breaking off to moan again; even his mental-voice was breathless. Clary released him, sucking and gnawing at his collarbone playfully.

_'Put it in,'_ she just about managed to respond, hitching her legs up and widening them further. Her brother started to reach for her bedside table, before realising belatedly that it was, in fact, her bedside table.

_'Crap- I'll go get a condom-'_ he started to pull away, but Clary refused to relinquish her hold on him.

_'No, just leave it,'_ Jonathan looked at her, clearly about to argue. _'I want to feel you inside me, properly…'_

"No."

"Please?" she was begging, but the shame of it couldn't surpass her want. "You can just pull out before you-"

"That, is assuming I can." Jonathan bit out, cutting her off.

Clary leaned up and brushed his lips with hers. _'You're tempted really…'_

_'How could I not be?'_ her brother replied irritably, but he relaxed slightly, his hands skimming up and down her sides. She nuzzled the side of his neck, nibbling and pulling at the hollow beneath his ear.

"No, Clary, we can't…" he breathed, struggling to regain control but the redhead quickly rolled them over and straddled his hips. She started licking at the pink marks she'd made on his neck, like a cat lapping up milk and sent her brothers next words to oblivion with a single flick of her pelvis.

_'Do you surrender?'_ she whispered haughtily to his mind, using his shoulders as leverage to raise herself up. His heart was beating rapidly as he half-glared, half-smirked up at her. He gave a laboured sigh before rolling and pinning her beneath him once again. _'Jonathan-'_

"We are never doing this again. Got that?" her brother told her, a note of finality in his husky voice. Clary pouted for a moment, but nodded her agreement. Jonathan spread her legs wider before taking his penis in hand and began to push the head against her hole. "You're definitely wet enough," he commented with a glint of pleasure in his black eyes; the redhead flushed profusely but said nothing, simply watching and waiting. As her brother started to enter her, his smouldering gaze became unfocused, his eyes falling shut completely as he reached her limit.

"Oh-" Clary whimpered, biting her lip and raking his back with her nails.

"Fuck..." Jonathan buried his face in his sister's curls as he gradually drove in and out of her, his hands gripping her thighs. He felt like he was on fire and his sisters skin was the salve to his burns. Clary's hand was fisted in his ivory hair while the other grabbed at his waist; her back was arched and her hips were bucking sporadically. Every pound into her wet, narrow hole sent electricity through his nerve ends, drawing him to the edge. He was no longer human; he was a mindless beast, dealing with his rock hard organ the only way he knew how. His sister was the unsuspecting doe. Except she wasn't unsuspecting- she was gagging for it, shuddering and mewling and mentally telling him to fuck her harder in that insanely, sexy commanding tone of hers. He couldn't help but indulge her. And it felt even better than the first time, as Clary's flush of ecstasy imprinted on his mind. He wanted to bind her to him in every possible way. He wanted a rope slung around her waist, so that he could reel her in whenever he needed a taste- a fix. But more than that, he wanted her willing just like she was now. He wanted her to crave his touch like plants crave sunlight. He wanted to plague her thoughts, wanted the memory of his body moulded to hers, to seep into her very bones. If she was like an unhealthy addiction to him, he wanted to be exactly the same for her. To be hers and for her to be his, entwined forever; that was his fantasy, nothing more, nothing less.

Skin clinging to hers, he drew himself up, lifting her legs to rest against his shoulders and thrust wildly, blindly into her over and over, until all he could hear was his sister screaming his name, her body convulsing against his. He ejaculated with Clary's name on his lips, cum bursting from his dick and colouring her insides white.

Slowly, he stopped moving against her, a wide grin of satisfaction plastered to his face, as he lowered his sisters legs and collapsed on top of her, not bothering to remove his penis from her weeping entrance just yet. They were both panting as he cupped her face in his hands and brought his mouth down on hers. They lazily fed off each others tongues for a while, licking and sucking and biting, like lion cubs cleaning each others fur.

Eventually they settled, Jonathan on his back with his arms wrapped around his sister, who was curled against his side, her cheek against his shoulder. Absently, he was aware that they were both in need of a shower and some breakfast, but he was still coming down from his high and he was rather enjoying the feeling of Clary tracing patterns across his chest.

_'You know…you didn't pull out…'_ Jonathan's blissful daydreaming skidded to a halt as his sister's words tickled the corners of his head; she didn't sound half as serious as he thought she should have. He dragged a hand down his face, recalling his carelessness. He'd been so caught up in the moment that he'd completely forgotten that he wasn't wearing any protection. He sighed warily, finally lowering his hand.

_'Should you- you should take something-'_ Jonathan began soberly, stumbling over his words but Clary stopped him.

_'Well, I'm on the pill…'_ she smiled nervously up at him, sweeping white hair out of his right eye.

_'Why didn't you say so?!'_ he glared at her briefly, resenting the dose of unnecessary stress.

_'I don't know, I was embarrassed…'_ she answered, flustered, propping herself up on an elbow.

_'Hold on, how are you already on the pill, when you've only slept with me?'_ he asked suddenly, looking a tad suspicious.

Clary blanched, shrugging delicately. _'About a month ago…I seriously considered going out with Simon. I thought if I got with him- someone I love and trust- there would be no need to worry about dating anyone else. I imagined me and Simon getting married, starting a family; I wouldn't have to think about what- who- I really wanted because I'd be too busy living the life I'd mapped out. And when I'd see you, we'd be the same as always, endearingly close siblings…nothing else…'_

_'We wouldn't have been the same,'_ Jonathan responded in a low mental-voice. _'I can't bear the thought of you with another man. I would never have come to terms with you and Lewis.'_ Clary glanced down at him, stroking the side of his neck with the back of her hand.

_'I guess it's a good thing I bottled it then,'_ she murmured, kissing the crease between his black eyes. _'I got myself all 'prepared'. But when it came to it, I just couldn't. I still went on the pill, though…I don't really know why, I just had a feeling…and I was hoping my dreams of you seducing me in the middle of the night, would come true. Not that you'd need to seduce me…'_ she leant her head back down on his chest, resting her hand on his abdomen; Jonathan played with her hair, winding her red curls around his fingers, deep in thought.

_'Maybe you should take a test in a couple of weeks anyway. Just in case,'_ he told her, going back to the subject at hand. His sister hummed in agreement, pressing her lips to his skin. _'How long have you…thought about me?'_ he asked then, clasping her hand in his free one.

_'Since my twelfth birthday, I think,'_ she replied in a soft tone. _'At least, that was when it occurred to me that I had…I guess it was a crush really. You gave me a necklace; it had a star pendant with my name on it. Do you remember?'_

_'Yes. I went with Mother to buy it and I asked to have your name engraved on it. I…wanted it to be special.'_ Jonathan felt his face heat up, but he ignored it. _'Clarissa Adele.'_

_'When you gave it to me, I thought it was the best birthday present I'd ever been given,'_ Clary went on, seeming far away. _'You had that bashful look on your face…and I had this weird feeling, like a shift in my vision; I felt like I'd been looking at you from underwater up until that moment, and I'd finally surfaced. It was as if I was seeing you for the first time- not my brother, just a boy who'd given me the most perfect gift in the world. Over the next few days, I started to notice things about you. Little things, like the way your mouth turns down on one side when you're agitated or upset…the length of your eyelashes, the way you nod sometimes when you're thinking- as if you're agreeing with yourself. I realised that part of the reason I often snuck into your room at night was because I liked breathing in your scent as I fell asleep. And sometimes- though rarely- I'd wake to find you stretched out against my back, one of your hands tangled in my hair, as if you'd fallen asleep while playing with it…'_

Jonathan was silent for a long time, attempting to sort out his scattered emotions. Finding out that his sister had felt this way for almost as long as he had- if not longer- was practically a revelation. He thought of her clutching at his hand as they walked to school; casually lifting a lime Scittle to his lips while they lounged in front of the TV because she knew they were his favourites; running into his arms when she returned from her German-Exchange trip last year…

There was something diabolically wrong about it all, but it was undeniable nevertheless. He felt an overwhelming surge of protectiveness for his sister then, a want to shield her from prying eyes and ridicule and societal norms.

_'Jonathan…?'_ she whispered to his mind, apparently sensing his unease. He breathed out, but his grip on her tightened. _'Sorry…you didn't wanna hear about all that…' she_ added, sounding acutely sheepish.

_'No its…do you still have that necklace?'_ he asked her, swiftly diverting the conversation.

_'Yeah- it's in a safe place,'_ she began, sitting up and slipping out of bed to walk over to her wardrobe. _'I almost lost it once and when I finally found it, I was too scared to wear it anymore. So I tucked it away for safe keeping,'_ Jonathan sat up, leaning back against the headboard as he openly marvelled at the curves of his sister's petit frame, her curls hanging hectically around her shoulders. She carried a shoebox over to the bed and sat down next to him. He put his arm around her almost automatically, kissing her temple.

"What's this?"

"Just a box of old things- mainly photos," she explained as she set the lid down and started to carefully rummage through the miscellany. Jonathan picked up a picture that caught his eye and smiled slightly down at it. It was taken during a trip to the beach, when they were nine and ten; Clary was standing in a frilly, apple-green dress, grinning at the camera, one hand holding a chocolate flavoured ice-cream, while the other tugged at a lock of Jonathans hair; he was sitting on their patchwork picnic blanket, in swimming trunks, with his legs stretched out and a mild smirk on his face- not yet perfected. "Here it is, oh…" Clary smiled at the photo in his hand, the velvet, purple pouch in hers momentarily forgotten. "We've changed so much…"

"Do you think?" Jonathan murmured, looking up at his sister from under his lashes. Clary kissed him as if to prove her point, pulling back to give him a knowing look. He continued to gaze at her as she opened the flap of her pouch, moving to tip a dull, silver chain into his free hand. Placing the photo back in the box, he held up the necklace by the clasp, cradling the pendant in his palm. It didn't look as elegant as it had back then; it was a simple, flat star, with his sister's name engraved in thin italic. The points were no longer sharp- it didn't look like the striking necklace from his memory.

"Beautiful," Clary said, a dreamy glaze lighting her emerald eyes. Jonathan glanced at her, eyebrows raised but he just shook his head, a self-deprecating smile determinedly quirking his lips up at the corners.

"Sentimental." He said eventually, leaving it at that and gently slid it back into the velvet pouch. Clary put it away and put the box to one side; she turned back to him, stroking the nape of his neck affectionately.

_'Shower?'_

* * *

**_...Just so you know, I'm not going down the whole pregnancy scare/Clary gets pregnant street with this :P_**


	6. Chapter 6

-6-

* * *

It was Sunday morning and Simon was slouching through town, killing time before making his way over to Clary's. The sun was out but there were rain clouds looming overhead, splitting its rays so that patches of light spotted the pavement. Simon was in a good mood despite his best friend's strange behaviour during the week. He was used to it; Clary had been chopping and changing her mind since they'd first met. He'd never really minded since the reason was to keep her brother company more often than not. Simon knew she worried about her brother a lot, though he couldn't help but think it should be the other way around, that Jonathan should be the one taking care of Clary.

Still, it was better than being turned down for a stylish, good-looking boyfriend. He winced at the thought as he paused by his and Clary's usual café, deliberating over whether to keep on walking or settle down with a mug of milky coffee and pull his DS out of his rucksack as a distraction. He caught a flash of fiery red hair then and peered more closely through the window. Clary was sat at a table with a boy, laughing up at him. The boy had his back to Simon so he couldn't see his face and for a moment, the brunette felt his stomach churn uncomfortably. But then he noticed the fair white hair curling against the grey scarf the boy was wearing and breathed out in relief. So Clary and her brother had come out for breakfast…

Simon felt a pinch of jealousy, watching the two of them. There had always been something about their intimacy that bothered him. Even now, as Clary absently reached over to brush a piece of fluff off her brother's shoulder, he still couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was. He envied Jonathan; all he seemed to have to do was walk into the room to gain his sisters absolute attention and receive that smile full of earnest affection. As ridiculous as being jealous of Clary's brother was, it seemed very much justified to the brunette.

Jonathan was leaning over now and lifting up a necklace partially hidden beneath Clary's t-shirt. Her hand came up to clasp his, her palm against his knuckles and lowered their hands to the table. She was saying something to him, but Simon's eyes were glued to her fingers as they encircled her brother's wrist, her thumb stroking the inner side where his pulse beat. Jonathan pulled his hand back as the brunette turned away sharply. His throat felt constricted as he moved away, no longer sure about what he'd just seen. He thought he'd been the onlooker of his best friend enjoying a cosy breakfast with her brother. But a sick feeling was growing in his stomach, telling him he'd been wrong.

* * *

A couple hours later, the siblings were sat in their local park, in Clary's favourite spot to draw. They were in the shadow of a cedar, Clary's back was against the trunk and there was a spare sketchbook open in her lap. Jonathan was lying down on the picnic blanket next to her; he was on his front, using his folded arms as a pillow. The redhead had brought her graphic novel with her, but with her brother still beside her, eyes closed and the hint of a smile on his lips, her fingers had itched to draw him until she'd eventually given in. Part of her wished he was lying in the sun, but she couldn't ask him to move because he'd be annoyed that she'd been drawing him. She didn't want him to move away anyway; she felt naked whenever he was out of reach and right now, he was close enough that she could just make out the faint blue rivulets that ran beneath the skin of his face. As she traced the outline of his mouth, she bit her bottom lip, thoughts of how good his mouth felt against hers, disrupting her concentration. Deciding she was no longer in the right frame of mind to continue drawing, she set her pencil and sketchbook on top of her bag and lay down on her side. Her brothers lips had parted slightly and she realised he'd fallen asleep. Her own lips stretched into a wicked grin, before she faltered, casting a nervous glance about them. This was a quiet part of the park, people rarely lingered here because the wide green fields ended and a lot more trees dotted either side of the gravelled path. Clary's spot was by a tree where if you sat directly opposite the path, there was a perfect line unblocked by the surrounding trees, that lead up to a fountain in the distance. She couldn't quite say why she liked it, though she often pondered whether she could actually see the light that sparked off the fountains water, or she just wished she could.

However, out in public was out in public and if Jonathans behaviour earlier in the café was anything to go by, he wouldn't be too pleased if she started mauling him right here in broad daylight. She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, listening to the birds chirping and the slight drone of vehicles passing by on the road that ran along the outside of the park.

"Clary," her heart skipped at the sound of her brother breathing her name, but she didn't open her eyes, she merely smiled. "You didn't wake me,"

"You looked peaceful," she answered, finally opening her eyes to see him propped up on an arm and stifling a yawn.

"I have pins and needles in my arms," he groaned mildly, sitting up and stretching his arms above his head, fingers interlocked. She heard his back crack in two places before he lowered his arms. "Home?"

"Yeah…" she murmured, feeling like she was forgetting something. She fisted her hands to restrain herself from running her fingers through her brother's silky locks, as she gazed up at him. He looked down at her and then away, his expression curiously blank as he got to his feet. He offered her his hand and she took it, letting him pull her up. It seemed like he held onto her hand longer than was necessary but he released her and moved to fold up the picnic blanket. She sighed inwardly, but started packing away her things.

* * *

"So, what do you wanna do when we get back?" Clary asked Jonathan as they strolled together along the street. There was only a strip of air separating them, but Clary felt it like a hundred aches, invisible glass cutting down the middle and barring them from physical contact. _'I can think of a few things…'_ she added mentally. Jonathan glanced sideways at her, a smirk quirking up one side of his face.

"Watch TV," he said aloud, nonchalantly. _'Or, we could do something that doesn't involve wearing clothes…'_ Clary brushed the back of his hand with hers, her fingers lingering for a moment; her brother appeared not to have noticed but she saw him swallow.

"Sure," she shrugged casually, but a secretive smile made its way across her face as they reached their block. "Mum and Dad are coming home today…" she murmured after a moment, resignation colouring her tones as Jonathan held the door open for her.

"Hmm," her brother's hand slid into hers as they climbed the stairs to their flat._ 'We'll have to be extra careful from now on.'_ Clary nodded, chewing on her lip.

_'I wish we'd had more time…'_ her tone was thoughtful, but there was an undercurrent of disappointment to it. She felt Jonathans hand drop from hers, falling limp by his side. She looked up, ready to send him a questioning look before she followed his gaze. Their next door neighbour was coming down the stairs. He nodded and said hello, a friendly but oblivious smile on his face. As he breezed past them, Clary refocused her eyes on her brother. _'Relax, he's gone,'_ but Jonathan remained silent as they arrived at their floor, his body as taut as a violin string. The redhead released a muted sigh, but made no move to touch him.

Back at the café, it had been almost effortless to pretend like they were a normal couple, or close friends at the very least. There was nothing similar enough about their looks to suggest they were related. But Jonathan had seemed over-cautious anyway, even a little paranoid. For Clary, it had been the best morning away from home in a very long time. They probably wouldn't go there again just in case- especially with the chance of bumping into Simon- but there were plenty of other places they could go, where no one knew they were brother and sister.

She walked ahead of Jonathan into the entrance hall, still caught in her thoughts, as she pulled the strap of her bag over her head and let it thunk to the ground. She distantly heard him close the door behind them and then suddenly his arms were around her shoulders, his face buried in her neck, breathing her in. Startled laughter escaped her lips as she leaned back into him, her left hand winding into his ivory hair.

"Kiss me," she whispered, turning her face to nibble on his ear. Jonathan raised his head and cupped her cheek, leaning down to press his mouth against hers fervently. They stayed like that for a while, soaking up the warmth from their bodies and tasting each other with twirls of their tongues. Her brother pulled back eventually, a hectic blush emphasising his cheekbones. Clary twisted round, locking her arms around his neck as she grinned up at him.

"Clary…" he sighed, gazing down at her, eyelids drooped in contentment. She liked it when he was like this, placid- all tension gone as if it had never existed to begin with. He leant his forehead on hers briefly, his hands tangled in her fiery hair before he straightened up. "Are you hungry?"

"Well…" she began in a deliberate tone, capturing his black gaze in hers.

"Not for that. I'll make you a sandwich…"

"I am perfectly capable of making myself a sandwich, Jonathan," she retorted half-heartedly, as she unwound the scarf from his neck, which he'd worn to conceal the hickeys she'd given him; she touched the rough, bruised skin delicately, wanting to kiss them all better.

"I don't know…a butter knife is still a knife," he smirked down at her, resting his hands on her hips. She rolled her eyes before looping the scarf back around his neck like a lasso and tugging him through the arch, into the lounge. "So I'm a sex slave to you now?" he said, digging in his heels so that she paused and turned back towards him.

"What else?" she all but purred, reeling him in by the scarf and going up on her tiptoes to kiss him. At first he made it difficult, refusing to return the pressure and smiling against her persistent mouth, his eyes dilating like a sharks. But when Clary dragged his top lip through her teeth, he relented, parting his lips with hers and slipping his hands into the back pockets of her jeans. He made an appreciative noise as the redhead got lost in him once again; she tightened her hold on his scarf as if attempting to- literally- bend him to her will.

"…go through…"

Clary let go and hastily backed up a step just as they heard the front door go. She sensed Jonathan stiffen, but her eyes had already flown towards the front hall, where they were frozen in shock.

"Clary…?"

* * *

**_Sorry about the cliffhanger, couldnt resist :P_**


	7. Chapter 7

-7-

* * *

Simon was standing in the archway, staring at her with near-disbelief written all over his face.

"Clary?" his voice was barely above a whisper and he'd said her name as if he was struggling to recognise her. She swallowed, glancing at her brother who had shifted further away from her and was leaning against the back of the sofa; she could see the muscles working in his jaw, belying his calm façade. Her green eyes wavered back to Simon who was looking nauseous, emotions chasing each other across his face, too fast to pin down.

And then Valentine Morgenstern was there, carrying a duffle bag in either hand. "Well, go in. Don't just stand there," he intoned, shouldering past the brunette with a mildly irritated look on his face.

"Make yourself at home, Simon," Jocelyn said as she followed her husband into the room, giving Simons shoulder a light squeeze. Simon teetered, his eyes now avoiding Clary's.

"Si-" she began, not knowing what to say. But it didn't matter because he was already pushing his way back out the way he came.

"You're leaving already-?" Jocelyn started to call after him, confusion clear on her face as she looked at Clary.

"But he just got here," Valentine said imperiously as he stepped towards his wife, their luggage now set down in the hallway. "No manners, that boy," he tsked before turning to his children, Simon already forgotten.

"Aren't you going to go after him?" Jonathan said finally in a vacant voice, his head turned away from her so that she couldn't see his face. Clary hesitated, biting her lip; she knew she should go after him, but she didn't know what she could possibly tell him that wouldn't be an out-right lie, nor anything he would actually believe. Except the truth, that is.

"…something happen…Clary…?"

_'Clary! Go!'_

She snapped out of her impending despair, looking at her brother who was glaring at her.

"You didn't scare him off again, did you Jonathan?" their father was saying in an amused tone, but the redhead didn't stop to hear the answer, only dashed for the front door with blood pounding in her ears.

* * *

Jonathan mentally breathed out, pulling the grey scarf from around his neck and balling it up in his hands.

"What was that all about?" his mother asked, her green eyes searching his face.

"I think she stood him up," he answered carefully with a shrug, focusing his gaze on the ball of material in his hands, as both his parents regarded him.

"He asked her out?" Jocelyn said, sounding surprised and a little hopeful. Jonathan nodded, hair falling into his eyes as he continued to look down.

"Well, that's no- what happened to your neck?" Jonathan slowly looked up at his father, whose fine eyebrows were raised. "You look like you were attacked by an alley cat," he resisted the urge to cover his neck as his father gave him a bemused look and his mother frowned in disapproval- obviously realising what kind of bite marks they were. Wearily, he made his way to his bedroom door, ignoring the odd looks he was receiving from his parents and trying to shut out- or at least, delay- the panic that was trying to override his brain.

* * *

"Teenagers," Valentine stated, crossing his arms loosely as he watched his son's bedroom door close.

"_You_ were a teenager once," Jocelyn said softly, having moved closer to his side.

"We weren't that dramatic back then, were we?" he inquired as if his memory were lost to time.

"Much more dramatic than that," she told him, resting her palms against his chest as he drew her into his arms. "You stood up in the middle of assembly and declared your undying love for me, inviting everyone to the wedding,"

"I did, didn't I?" Valentine chuckled, tilting her face up to his with the crook of his index finger under her chin.

"You do know our son wasn't attacked by a cat though, don't you?"

* * *

Clary was half-running to keep up with her best friend as he hurried down the street, trying to get away from her.

"I don't wanna know, Clary." Simon forced out, sounding like he was choking.

"Just let me explain!" the redhead pleaded, trying to grab his arm to stop him. "Please, Simon, its-"

"Not what I think?" he returned, spinning round to face her at last, a furious yet vulnerable expression on his face. "I know what I saw, Clary! You- your brother-" he broke off, turning away as he brought his hand up to his mouth. He looked like he was going to throw up; Clary felt tears spill down her cheeks at Simon's obvious disgust.

"You…you don't understand…" she sniffed, emerald eyes looking away from the accusation in his coffee coloured ones.

"I don't know how you can expect me to," he replied, taking his glasses off to rub his eyes.

"I don't know why I'm like this…" Clary whispered, taking a deep breath as tears continued to streak down her face. "But I can't change it…and even if I could, I wouldn't want to…"

"Why not?" Simon demanded, roughly pushing his glasses back onto his face.

"I just couldn't-"

"Why not?!" he repeated, his brown eyes imploring her to help him understand; she sobbed quietly, shaking her head. "He's your _brother_, Clary!"

"I love him!" the brunette stared at her open-mouthed, blinking as if he was having trouble processing what she'd said. Clary was trembling, her breath hitching loudly. She put her face in her hands, no longer able to bear the look on her best friends face.

"What are you talking about? He's your brother, of course you love him," he said in a part-reasonable, part-hysterical voice, running a hand through his thick locks twice.

"No, Simon," Clary croaked, lowering her hands. "I _love_ him…"

"You…you cant- that's…that's…" the brunette trailed off, reading the sincerity in her glistening green eyes.

"Wrong?" she laughed bitterly, wiping her cheeks on the backs of her hands. "It doesn't feel wrong. Not to us…"

"How does it feel?" Simon asked, seeming afraid of her answer as he failed to make eye contact.

"When I'm not with him…its like I'm not really me, only a shell of my true self. But when we're together, I am…it's like I step from shadow into the light, his light…" she gave him a small, barely-there smile, hugging her arms to herself.

"I've gotta tell you, Clary, you sound crazy…" the brunette quavered, studying her tear-stained face, his own still painfully bewildered, not comprehending.

"Maybe I am," she murmured miserably, but strength was returning to her voice.

"Wait a second, you haven't- with him- have you?" Simon asked suddenly, stumbling over his words as the skin of his face gained a green sheen. Clary breathed in harshly, biting her lip. His eyes widened, his gaze boring into the side of her face as she glanced away, flushing bright red.

"Not that it's any of your business-" she began but he cut her off.

"Are you nuts?!" he took her by the shoulders and gave her a none-too-gentle shake. "Don't you know how serious this is?"

"I know that better than anyone," she returned, firmly pushing him away. "But it's my decision to make and I've already made it. I won't leave him."

"Clary, he's your brother-" the brunette started, becoming increasingly frantic.

"You don't have to keep reminding me," she shot back as her face tightened and her tears finally ran dry. "This is me, Simon. I'm still your best friend," their eyes met for a long, tense moment.

"Best friend…" Simon muttered, torture showing in his eyes for a split second. "I- I'm sorry, Clary…but I just can't handle this…"

"So that's it?" the redhead whispered, sensing tears welling up again, her mouth going dry.

"I…I need time, space, to think…" he started to turn away, hunched as if trying to brace himself against the burden that had just been placed on his shoulders.

"But you're not gonna…"

He hesitated, giving her a hard look over his shoulder. "No. I'm not gonna tell anyone." And then he walked away from her without another word. He didn't glance back at her once. Clary felt guilt and hurt swell in her chest, strangling the tiny morsel of relief.

* * *

Late that night, Jonathan was sitting on the end of his bed in black slacks, with his legs drawn up and his forehead resting on his knees. He'd nearly gone insane with fear and anxiety, waiting for Clary to come home, but when she had, not an hour from when she'd left, she'd looked empty and exhausted and proceeded to spend the rest of the evening not speaking a word. She'd eaten dinner at least- their parents had ordered pizza as a 'treat', but Jonathan suspected it had been an attempt to coax Clary out of her silence. It hadn't worked and reaching the end of his tether, their father had bluntly asked her what was wrong, looking and sounding truly concerned as he placed his hands on her shoulders. After a pause, Clary had burst into tears and thrown her arms around him. Valentine had looked alarmed as his daughter clung to him, but he instantly took up rubbing her back in soothing, circular motions, glancing at Jocelyn for support. Jonathan had stood up, meaning to comfort her but he'd stopped himself, simply watching her cry and feeling utterly helpless.

As it became apparent that she wasn't going to tell them what had happened, their father had swung her up into his arms and taken her to her room, Jocelyn and Jonathan close behind. The white haired boy had watched from the doorway as their parents laid her down, Jocelyn perching on the edge of the bed and stroking her hair back from her face, trying to lull her to sleep. Valentine had leant over, kissing Clary's forehead and touching his wife's arm before ushering Jonathan out.

_"Come away," he guided Jonathan back towards the living room, a hand on his back. But his son hardly noticed, mind whirring and chest heaving at the fact that his sister hadn't asked him to stay with her. Didn't she want him there? Was he no longer the person she wanted to be held by? Had she finally seen the error of her ways? Did she no longer want him…?_

_"Jonathan…? Jonathan, calm down. Look at me," Valentine cupped his sons face, his black eyes seeking his sons. "Breathe," Jonathan sucked in a breath as was asked, concentrating on his fathers steady gaze, fighting against the panic trying to overtake him. "And breathe out," he blew out a gust, his fists gradually unclenching and his heart slowing._

_Valentine released him, breathing out himself. "Now, what happened? Why is Clarissa so distressed? I've never seen her like that before," he turned sideways to look in the direction of Clary's room, where you could hear the soft lilt of Jocelyn's voice carrying through the wall; she was singing._

_"I don't know…" Jonathan mumbled, licking his lips as he followed his fathers gaze._

_"I can't believe that; you know everything that goes on in your sister's head," Valentine replied, giving his son a measured look. "Are you involved in this?"_

_Jonathan swallowed past the lump in his throat, resisting the urge to shrink away from his fathers questioning eyes. "Something must have happened between her and Simon when she ran after him. I don't know what, I was here…"_

_"I'm not interrogating you, Jonathan," his father told him, frowning slightly. Jonathan nodded once, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and looking away. Eventually Valentine moved back towards Clary's room, but not before giving his son a tired smile._

Back in the present, Jonathan sighed and lowered his feet to the ground, resting his hands on his legs.

_'…Clary?'_

No answer. He pushed himself up from off the bed and grabbed fistfuls of his ivory hair, swearing under his breath. He guessed he couldn't rule out the possibility that she was asleep, but he could have sworn he felt her presence when he'd reached his mind out to hers.

Just as he was about to start pacing however, his door opened. His heart seemed to stop before it began racing. She closed the door quietly and met his gaze. In the dim moonlight that shone through his window, her eyes looked almost as black as his. If her hair had been white, there would've been no mistaking them for anything but siblings. Swallowing past the unwanted thought, he held out his arms for her. After a beat, she ran to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, nails digging into the bare skin of his lower back. He exhaled, one arm hugging her to him, while his free hand stroked the back of her neck. Her hair was tied up in an elastic band and he had to refrain from pulling it off and freeing her curls.

_'I thought you were angry,'_ she whispered to his mind, sounding as fragile as bone china.

_'What?'_ his tone was incredulous, but he didn't pull back, just closed his eyes and inhaled her natural scent.

_'You didn't say a word to me all night…'_ she elaborated, turning her face towards him so that he could feel her breath against his neck. Jonathan bit back a laugh, shaking his head slightly.

_'You're one to talk,'_ he sighed as his sister nudged along his jaw, asking for access to his mouth; he straightened up, placing his hands on the tops of her arms. _'Clary. What happened with Simon?'_

_'He said he needed time to think, but he's not going to tell anyone,'_ she told him dismally, locking her hands around his neck.

_'You've been friends for years, he'll come around. And if he doesn't, maybe he isn't worth your time,'_ Jonathan skimmed his fingertips up and down her arms, trying to exude enough reassurance to relax his sister.

_'But the way he looked at me…'_ she continued, biting her lip as the whites of her emerald eyes turned pink and her tear ducts began to leak again. _'He couldn't get away from me quick enough, like I was gonna infect him with some deadly disease…' _fury sparked in Jonathans black eyes as his sister buried her face in the dip of his neck. All he wanted to do in that moment was break Simon Lewis' neck. But Clary soon brought him out of his red haze by a kiss to his throat. His grip on her arms had tightened drastically and he swiftly loosened up, trying to snub out the hatred burning in his onyx orbs, for Simon's treatment of his sister.

_'Forget about him,'_ he breathed into Clary's mind in a sultry tone. _'You don't need him, you have me.'_

She looked up at him, visibly attempting to decipher the emotions his words had evoked. _'He's my best friend; he's the person I go to when I don't have you…'_

_'Things are different now. I'll always be there for you. Let him go.'_ He moved his hands to cup the sides of her neck, his thumbs brushing back and forth. She caught at his wrists but didn't pull his hands away.

_'Don't do that,'_ she shook her head, inhaling deeply in and out.

_'Do what?'_

_'Manipulate me,'_ she gave him a reproachful look.

His face twisted and he dropped his hands from her neck, glancing away and folding his arms across his chest like a naughty school boy. _'I wasn't.'_

_'Yes, you were.'_ She sighed, lifting a hand to tuck a stray ivory lock behind his ear. _'You can't have me all to yourself, all the time. You know that,'_

Before she had time to react, he pulled her flush against him, one hand possessively pressing against the small of her back as the other grabbed her hip. _'I could if I wanted to,'_ their faces were so close that their noses were touching. Her lips were parted and her eyes were wide as he stared intently into them. He could feel her heart beating wildly within her chest, sending a jolt of thrill through his body.

_'You know that's not true- not while we're still teenagers,'_ she returned, her mental voice breathless. _'You'll always come first, but I can't just throw away mine and Simon's friendship,' _

Jonathan backed up an inch, his mouth turning down on one side and a haunted expression darkening his features. _'You cried your heart out tonight and there was nothing I could do to ease your pain; the pain that boy inflicted,'_

_'It wasn't intentional,'_ Clary defended lightly, tentatively kissing the palm of his hand.

_'But if it happened again-'_

_'It won't.'_ She put her hands on his chest and a shudder went through him. _'I want you. What else does anything- or anyone- matter?'_

_'Nothing.'_ Jonathan amended reluctantly, leaning his forehead on hers.

_'I'm yours, forever. That's all you need to know,'_ she whispered into his head as they gazed at each other.

_'Mine…'_ his eyes lazily travelled down to her lips and then flickered back up again. He sighed. _'No sex while the parents are home…'_

_'There are other things we can do…'_ Clary flushed even as a predatory look transformed her face.

_'Oh yes,'_ Jonathan smirked down at her momentarily before claiming her mouth.

* * *

_**Thoughts on the Jocelyn/Valentine moment? Cringe-worthy? Fluffy? Are you all die-hard Luke fans? Let me know :)**_


	8. Chapter 8

-Interlude-

* * *

J: _'Do you remember when we were kids, and you fell out of a tree we'd climbed in the park?'_

C: _'I broke my leg…and you carried me home on your back…'_

J: _'Yes. You fell asleep on my shoulder and I thought you were dead. When we got home and you woke up, I burst into tears and ran to my room,'_

C: _'That's right. Father had to stay home with you, while Mum took me to the hospital. You didn't come out of your room for the rest of the weekend; you wouldn't eat…I couldn't even coax you out. Didn't you shout at me to "go and find another brother to play with"…?'_

J: _'Hm…'_

C: _'I don't think I've seen you cry since then-'_

J: _'It…it was my fault…'_

C: _'What?'_

J: _'We were sitting on a branch, swinging our legs…and you took my hand in yours. I don't know why but I panicked- I flinched, tore my hand from yours and you lost your balance…I almost dove after you, but I caught myself and quickly climbed down,'_

C: _'Is that why you shut yourself away?'_

J: _'I thought I'd killed you. And then you just woke up- you'd only been sleeping…but you could have died…'_

C: _'From falling out of a tree-'_

J: _'You could have landed differently, hit your head- and I would have been the reason you were dead.'_

C: _'Jonathan…I was already losing my balance- that's why I grabbed your hand-'_

J: _'You're a terrible liar,'_

C: _'It was worth a try…'_

J: _'…'_

C: _'Jonathan. Do you remember that time I accidentally set the dining table cloth on fire? I could have burnt the flat down and killed us all…'_

J: _'Clary…'_

C: _'What? No contrary comment to make?'_

J: _'That was me-_ I_ set fire to the dining table. I knocked over that stupid decorative candle Mother bought,'_

C: _'Oh…but I remember getting in trouble…'_

J: _'You got in trouble for laughing; Dad lectured us about the seriousness of what could have happened if he hadn't been there,'_

C: _'…Know-it-all,'_

J: _'Because I have a working memory?'_

C: _'Is that all you're good for?'_

J: _'Ouch. Then what would please you, My Lady?'_

C: _'A kiss,'_

J: _'Such a thing is hard to come by…'_

C: _'No it isn't.'_

J: _'…Well, it is the only thing _you're_ good for, I must admit,'_

C: _'How you disrespect your Queen…I must punish you at once,'_

J: _'Go ahead,'_

* * *

It was the following weekend and Simon Lewis was in his and Clary's usual meeting place, seated at a table by the window. It was coming up to midday and the café was gradually filling up. The mug of coffee he was mournfully staring into had long since gone cold, but the brunette made no move to order a new one. A high-pitched giggle from across the busy room caught his attention then. Two blond children, a man and a woman; a family. The little boy was stealing chips from his sister's plate, while she unsuccessfully tried to fend him off. Their mother was talking rapidly into her mobile and their father appeared to be engrossed in a copy of today's paper. For a few seconds, Simon felt anger towards the oblivious parents, resisting the urge to shout at them- to warn them that if they didn't pay more attention to their children, they might just-

"Simon?"

He looked up, the glare still fixed on his face. "Oh…" he hastily rearranged his features, attempting to give off a calm, open air. "Hi…" Clary sat down opposite him, her face looking tight. Her fiery red hair was in a bunch at the back of her head, a stray curl hanging limply to the side of her face. He felt like he hadn't seen her in years, much less a week.

"How are you?" her voice was soft but her wide emerald eyes were guarded. He felt his heart stutter as he looked down, fiddling with the strap of his watch.

"I'm…better," he replied slowly, glancing at her and then back down again. "You?" he saw her hand reach for his across the table and he couldn't help but let her smooth palm make contact with his knuckles, before pulling quickly away.

"I've missed you," he met her gaze, reading sadness in it and he managed a weak smile in response.

"I've…" he began hesitantly, but his attention was pulled back to the little blond girl and her brother; she was leaning her head on his shoulder and he was playing with a strip of her hair. Simon looked away out the window and clasped his hands in his lap.

"Simon-"

"You have to stop…being with him," he murmured, refusing to look at her as he sensed her stiffening. "I know you have…feelings for him. They may not be normal but they're there…"

"So, what are you saying?" she pressed, half-heartedly.

"Clary, it's whether you act on them- or continue acting on them- that makes the difference," he released a breath and looked at her; she was staring down at the table, worrying her bottom lip. "There _is_ a right and wrong answer to this. If you 'felt' like killing someone, would you do it?"

"That's not the same thing, Simon!" Clary protested, gaining a few irritated, as well as curious glances from nearby tables. She leaned forward, her eyes holding his. "We aren't endangering people's lives. What does it matter to you who my boyfriend is? It has nothing do with you, or our friendship."

The brunette visibly flinched, leaning back in his chair. A small part of him wanted to scoff at her use of the word 'boyfriend' in relation to her brother. However, a more dominant, raw part of him was severely hurt. "I could ask you then, why you want my approval so badly," he muttered, pushing his glasses up his nose, trying to ignore the ache in his chest.

"I don't want your approval, Simon," Clary replied in a tired voice, shaking her head a little. "I just don't want to lose you,"

"I think you know what to do…" the brunette said, his coffee-coloured eyes boring into her.

"And I think you know who I'll choose if you make me." The redheads green eyes hardened as she gazed at him. Simon faltered, momentarily unsure of his mind. Was he really willing to let her go? To allow their friendship to crumble? An image of her in Jonathan's arms flickered into his thoughts, causing him to mentally wince. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and then glanced up.

"Clary, I love you," he said in a wistful tone, continuing on as her eyes widened. "I know you're never gonna see me that way. I've accepted that and maybe I'd get over you being with someone else- but not if that someone was your _brother_…"

"Simon…" she whispered, her eyes glistening so that they looked like gems. "I'm so sorry…"

"So am I…" he got unsteadily up from the table and started for the exit. But he didn't get very far before he felt a hand catch his. Reluctantly, he turned to face her, looking down at her petit frame; she looked smaller somehow, as if she were far away. Without a word, she leaned up and pressed a salty kiss to his lips. And then it was over.

"See you," she murmured, looking up at him with a heartbroken smile on her face.

"…See you." He nodded slightly, returning the smile as the pain in his chest lifted a fraction. And then he pushed himself through the door and out of Clary's life.

* * *

Jonathan was at home, lying on the sofa and failing to distract himself with a film. He lay on his back, thinking about Clary and wondering how things were going with Simon. For a while, he'd fought against the impulse to go down there to the café and personally make sure that Simon wasn't mistreating her. But in the end, he knew she'd be upset or annoyed or both, if he did and so he resigned himself to waiting. Not that he was very good at it. Their parents had gone shopping and would most likely have lunch out, so he was all alone with nothing but his thoughts for company.

He could guess what Simon Lewis was asking of his sister- that she choose between them. As foolish as that demand was, Jonathan felt a tiny morsel of sympathy for the brunette. There was no doubt in the white haired boy's mind that Clary would choose him and although it was against his own wishes, he was hoping Simon couldn't live without her regardless of her decision. It was what Clary wanted.

He was alerted to the front door opening and closing then, followed by light footsteps. Jonathan knew exactly who it was before she'd even come into view and perched on the back of the couch.

_'Clary,'_ he could instantly tell by her expression that things hadn't gone well. He sat up, taking her hand in his and bestowing a kiss to her knuckles. She smiled faintly down at him, but withdrew her hand from his grasp.

"Me and Simon are no longer friends," she said in a semi-detached voice, staring unseeing, off to the side. "It feels strange, saying that,"

"Clary…" Jonathan sighed, looking down as he drew a knee up and leant his arm on it.

"You're the only person I really have left in the world now," Clary murmured, glancing back at him; she ran a finger along his jaw, angling his face up to her. "You should be happy. This is what you wanted, wasn't it?" he regarded her vacant expression, fine eyebrows pulling together as she released him and walked away. After a beat, he got to his feet and followed his sister to her room. He closed the door behind him as he entered and approached her. She was standing as still as a statue in front of her bed, her back to him.

He stopped behind her and said in a matter of fact tone, _'I am selfish. I want nothing more than to keep you all to myself. But for what it's worth, I was hoping Simon would come through for you.'_

There was a long pause before Clary finally responded. _'Hold me,' _Jonathan did as was asked, wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her back to him. She relaxed into him straight away as he closed his eyes and rested his cheek against her neck. _'Simon said he loves me. That's why he couldn't bear to be my friend anymore…'_

_'I understand,'_ Jonathan replied in a soothing tone, kissing her shoulder.

_'Jonathan, are you in love with me?'_ the person in question opened his eyes, his hold on his sister tightening, possessively.

_'…You know,'_ he told her gently, nudging her jaw with his nose.

_'Tell me,'_ her voice wavered inside his head.

_'If I say it,'_ he started carefully but honestly. _'It will be real. And then I'd never be able to deny it again. Not even to myself.' _Clary twisted around in his arms and placed her hands on his chest.

"Well, I love you," she said in a casual tone, despite the serious determination in her green eyes. "I don't think I could deny it if I tried,"

"I know," Jonathan brought his hands up to cup his sisters face, his onyx black eyes brimming with something not unlike pride.

* * *

**_Hey, I know, its been ages. Sorry if the characters arent really on par with the way they're written in the previous chapters- I'm still getting back into writing them._**

**_Just to let you guys know, I'm gonna finish writing the rest of the fic and then upload one a day, so theres gonna be another gap. Its not to leave you in suspense or anything, I'm just really bad at getting to the end of fics and the best way for me is to just finish it all and then upload- it should give me more motivation. At least, I hope it will._**

**_With the way I've planned the story out, atm we're about halfway through._**

**_And for any of you still wondering, no one knows about Clary and Jonathans 'gift'. They may have attempted to tell their parents when they were kids but no one would have believed them._**

**_Hope you continue to enjoy! :)_**


	9. Chapter 9

-8-

* * *

It was Tuesday lunchtime and Clary was sat alone at the end of a table, refraining from sending lonely glances across the room at her ex-best friend. A plate of crispy-edged lasagne lay untouched in front of her as she propped her elbow on the table, resting her chin on her fist. Further along her table, a group of friends were acting obnoxious and causing a ruckus, but it easily sank into the general noise of the cafeteria.

The redhead sighed and lifted her eyes in the direction of Simon; he was sat with Eric, who was reading aloud from a magazine. Simon seemed distracted, looking out over the room. Clary followed his unhappy gaze instinctively and her emerald eyes soon met with onyx. Jonathan was standing at the far end of the hall by the double doors, leaning back against the wall with his thumbs hooked into his trouser pockets. She flushed as she saw his lips quirk up at the corners and hastily averted her eyes. She looked back over to Simon, but he was now frowning down at the table, completely oblivious of Eric, who was regarding his friend with a mixture of annoyance and concern.

_'Clary,'_

The whisper inside her head sent a shiver up her spine as she picked up a fork and began idly poking at her food. Her pulse was racing as she felt her brother's eyes on her.

_'Come here…'_

She glanced up at him to see a flash of mischief upon his angular features, before he turned and left the hall. Clary felt the pull to run after him, but she rose from her seat in a casual manner and moved to return her tray before following him out.

On exiting, she found Jonathan halfway down the corridor, outside a storage room with his hand lightly on the handle. When he saw her, he winked and entered it. Clary bit her lip, fighting the smile that was rising to her face and started towards the door. She looked up and down the corridor once before slipping inside.

_'Took you long enough,'_ she could practically hear him smirking as he reached around her to close the door. The light was off, but she could make out his outline and feel his presence heavily bearing down on her. His arms immediately came around her, drawing her against him and further into the room. Even though it had only been a couple of days since they'd last had an intimate moment, the redhead found herself gasping and moaning at how good his mouth felt against the delicate skin of her neck. She brushed his cheek as her lips searched for his, her fingers clawing at his shoulders as his hand squeezed the back of her thigh beneath her skirt.

_'We don't have long…'_ her voice was a breathless murmur as she spoke to his mind, her fingers curling into the thin material of his shirt. He raised his head to touch her forehead with his, running his hands up and down her arms.

_'You're driving me insane,'_ he responded and although she could barely see them, she could picture his bottomless eyes, smouldering from under his fair lashes. _'You're either walking around scantily-dressed at home, or coming to school in effectively short skirts,'_ he emphasised his point by skimming the hem of said skirt, the backs of his fingers stroking her leg.

_'Poor you,'_ she replied in an unsympathetic tone, suppressing a sigh when she felt his lips trail down her face and arrive at the corner of her mouth.

_'So it's intentional…'_ he moved her until her back was against what was most likely a shelf, his body trapping her in place. _'Why am I not surprised?'_

_'You enjoy it, really,'_ she told him confidently, reaching up blindly to guide his mouth to hers. Their lips met clumsily at first, but Clary was soon gasping at the strength of her brother's hunger. She felt him tug the elastic band from her hair and wind his hands into her curls, as his tongue lathered hers. He tasted like chocolate and for a moment, she pondered whether that was all he'd had for lunch. Her worries evaporated however, when she sensed his hands slide beneath her skirt again. She bit down hard on his top lip as he pulled her cotton knickers down slightly. The groan he released sounded more wanton than pained, but she instantly sucked and licked gently at the wound she'd inflicted, tasting blood in her mouth.

Jonathan buried his face in her neck eventually, pressing velvet kisses to the hollow beneath her ear. His hands were hot on her legs and she was barely holding onto her remaining patience. Finally she felt his hand move to her entrance, stroking tentatively.

"You're so wet…" he breathed against her ear, more to himself. She shuddered, her hands travelling down his torso of their own accord, to fumble with the button of his trousers. _'We can't do that here, Clary…'_

_'Why not? We have time,'_ her breath caught as she slipped her hand inside his boxers and felt how soft and yet so firm he was.

_'Anyone could walk in-'_ he began, weakly catching her wrist.

_'Someone could have walked in the whole time we were kissing,'_ she countered stubbornly, brushing her thumb back and forth over his shaft. Her brother pulled away, disappearing in the dark room. Clary self-consciously pulled up her knickers, biting her lip.

_'I didn't bring you here for that,'_ she heard Jonathan say in her mind, sounding frustrated. She stretched her arms out in front of her, trying to feel around for him.

_'Why did you?'_ she asked curiously, her heartbeat slowly returning to a regular rhythm.

_'For this,'_ suddenly the room burst with the florescent light of a bulb hanging from the ceiling. Clary winced, lowering her arms and blinking as she watched her brother cross the room to her from the light switch. He licked his lips as he took one of her hands and placed something cool and hard in her palm. She gave him a bemused smile, momentarily transfixed by the way the light haloed his tousled, ivory hair and the wealth of meaning within his black orbs. _'A token of my affection,' _he added with a sardonic curl of his plush mouth.

Clary raised her eyebrows and looked down at the shiny ornament in her hand. It was a pendant, she realised; simple and silver, but its shape caught her eye. It was a star, bevelled out on one side, with five sharp lines meeting at its centre. It was flat on the reverse, though Clary could feel an inscription engraved there.

_'Jonathan…'_ she smiled up at him, wonder glittering in her emerald eyes.

_'Look on the back,'_ he told her, tucking her fiery hair behind her ears. Carefully, she flipped it over.

_'"Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love."'_ As she finished reading, she gave her brother a knowing look. _'Shakespeare?'_

_'Problem?'_ he responded, raising an eyebrow in challenge. But she noticed the colour that rose along his prominent cheekbones.

_'I never knew you were poetic,'_ she commented with the hint of a smirk, seeing amusement dance within his dark eyes.

_'I'm not,'_ he replied, shortly. _'Hence the quote,'_ he pointed out with a smirk of his own. Clary rolled her eyes before reaching beneath her collar for her necklace and undoing the clasp. She nimbly threaded her new pendant onto it, joining the original one with a small clink.

_'Yes, I'm keeping the old one. Deal with it,'_ she murmured in response to her brother's expression. Just then the bell went, signalling the end of lunch and making Clary jump out of her skin.

_'May I?'_ Jonathan inquired gentlemanly, the husky tones of his voice making the redhead blush.

_'You may,'_ she answered curtly, handing him the necklace. The dozens of footsteps and the hubbub of voices passing by the door were disrupting the quiet of the storage room, but Clary tuned them out, turning her back to her brother and lifting her curls out of the way of his hands. He swiftly secured the chain around her neck and tucked it back beneath her shirt, his fingers lingering for a moment.

Clary released her hair and turned back to face him, a tender smile gracing her face. Going up on her tiptoes slightly, she bestowed a chaste kiss to his mouth.

_'Thank you,'_ she murmured into his mind, gazing up into his eyes and watching his pupils dilate as they took her in, merging with the irises.

Without a word, he leaned down and recaptured her mouth with his, his hands resting at the small of her back. Outside, the corridor was devoid of noise once again.

_'We have to go,'_ Jonathan sighed against her lips.

_'Fine,'_ she sighed back, pulling away and retrieving her elastic band from the floor. She followed her brother out into the deserted corridor and grasped his hand in hers as they headed towards the end.

Pausing, he stole a hasty kiss. _'See you at home,'_

_'Bye…'_ she smiled as she watched him go.

* * *

Jonathan and Clary were sat in the dining room, waiting for their parents to join them. They'd laid the table in a comfortable silence and sat down together.

_'I bit you so hard…'_ Clary murmured in thought, turning Jonathan's face so that she could get a better look. _'Does it hurt?'_

_'It's just a bit sore,'_ he replied dismissively, lowering her hand. _'Either way, it was worth it,'_ he added, smirking down at her suggestively.

_'You can kinda see my teeth marks…'_ she continued studying his mouth a minute more, as he openly gazed down at her. When her eyes met his, a deep red tainted her cheeks, filling him with pleasure and the desire to lean down and ravage her mouth. He was jolted out of it however, by their father entering the room and holding the door open for their mother. Jocelyn set down a pot of steaming spaghetti on one of the mats on the table, as Valentine left again to return with a second pot which he placed beside the pasta. A waft of Bolognese floated up Jonathan's nose.

"I hope you two are hungry," Jocelyn said, sitting down opposite Jonathan, as her husband began to serve the food. "You don't seem to be eating much lately," Jonathan automatically got up to pour the wine, as was habit. When he reached Clary's glass he paused, glancing at her for confirmation.

_'Half a glass, please,'_ he heard her words breeze easily through his mind and immediately complied, not noticing their mother regarding them with a quizzical look. He returned to his seat, as his father finished serving and took a gulp of his drink, realising now, with a plate full of spaghetti Bolognese in front of him, how hungry he was.

Valentine eventually settled into his seat to the relief of his son, whose fingers had been inching towards his cutlery, anticipating the moment he could tuck in.

_'Someone's hungry…'_ he heard his sister comment in an amused tone. He glanced at her, momentarily forgetting the food.

_'I'm starving in more ways than one, as you well know,'_ the redhead stifled a giggle behind her hand, as Jonathan turned back to see that their parents had already started eating. _'I'm starting to think you're a sadist,'_ he smirked around a forkful of food, savouring the glorious taste on his tongue.

_'If I'm a sadist, that makes you a-'_ his sisters thought was interrupted by their father addressing him.

"What happened to you mouth?" Jonathan awkwardly swallowed the mass of spaghetti in his mouth and fingered his lip lightly.

"Your lip looks a bit swollen," Jocelyn said, her eyebrows pulling together slightly in disapproval. Jonathan drank from his wine in way of stalling, but Valentine spoke again.

"Another alley cat?" he felt his mouth twitch at the corners as he caught his fathers eye.

"The same one actually, Dad," he replied, covertly sending his sister a side-glance, to which she rolled her eyes.

"It must have taken a liking to you," Valentine stated, winking at his son as he picked up his glass to sip at.

"Yes, I think we've developed a bond," Jonathan confided as he twirled pasta onto his fork.

"Don't get too attached," his father tutted, absently running his fingers over the back of his wife's hand, where it lay on the table. "Soon you'll be asking if you can bring it home," father and son mimicked each others smirks for a second before Jonathan returned his attention to his food.

"If he hasn't already," Jocelyn said dryly, before splitting a look between Valentine and their son. "I hope this isn't how conversations going to be tonight. Because I think me and Clary will get tired of it a lot quicker than you two," she looked across at Clary, who was preoccupied, draining the dregs of her drink. The younger redhead hastily nodded her agreement when she registered her mother's mildly perplexed expression.

"Well, my dear," Valentine began in an appeasing tone, focusing his dark gaze entirely on his wife. "Feel free to think of a topic far more interesting than our sons new cat friend," for a bazaar moment, Jonathan was struck by the way they seemed to mirror how he and Clary looked at each other and vice versa.

"I can think of plenty," Jocelyn replied confidently, rolling her eyes at her husbands raised eyebrows.

"Such as?" Valentine prompted, smiling patiently at his wife, seeming no longer aware of their children's presence.

_'D'you get the feeling that's how we are?'_ Clary asked, as Jonathan scooped up the rest of his Bolognese.

_'Unfortunately; though I like to think of us as more dignified,'_

She nodded sombrely, causing a soft smile to brighten his face. On the other side of the dining table, Jocelyn was glancing about herself, her hands flailing a bit as she wracked her brain for a smart comeback.

"Clary," she blurted at last, ignoring the smug look on her husbands face.

"I agree. Clary is far more interesting than my new pet," Jonathan interjected in a faux-serious tone, earning a green-eyed glare from the person in question and a quiet chuckle from his father.

"That's because your 'new pet' doesn't exist in reality," his sister retorted sarcastically.

"I assure you, my cat is very real," Jonathan said, grinning devilishly at her.

_'That's because it's me!'_ she returned in an incredulous tone, causing him to choke on his drink, before sticking her tongue out at him for good measure. Jonathan laughed heartily as he wiped his mouth and fingers on his napkin.

"Have you made up with Simon yet, Clary?" Jocelyn asked, swiftly changing the subject. Jonathan's laughter broke off as he glanced at Clary for her reaction. She was looking down at her plate, taken off guard by their mother's abruptness.

"…I'd rather talk about fictional cats," she answered with a small shrug and a weak smile.

"Is it really that bad, honey?" Jocelyn said gently, her eyes wide with concern. Beneath the table, Jonathan entwined his hand with his sisters, squeezing supportively.

"Don't you think you're both being somewhat immature?" Valentine asked not unkindly, as he regarded his daughter's downcast face.

"I didn't break his Spider Man 2 DVD or anything stupid like that," Clary explained hesitantly, returning the pressure of her brother's hand under the table. "He's just decided he can't be friends with me anymore,"

"What was the fight about?" Jocelyn pressed carefully, not wanting to force the issue.

"I…I don't want to be his girlfriend…" it wasn't precisely a lie, but it wasn't precisely true either.

"That's all?" Valentine said, tsking as he finished his glass of wine.

"Why not?" Jocelyn asked in a faintly disappointed voice. "Simons a lovely boy," Jonathan felt himself withdraw his hand from Clary's, feeling acutely aware of his mothers thoughts regarding Simon and his sister.

"He's practically my brother," she responded with a brisk shake of her head.

"He's nothing like me," Jonathan protested deliberately, trying to lighten the tension that seemed to be clinging to him.

"Exactly," his sister deadpanned, reaching for his hand where it was resting on his leg and brushing her thumb over his wrist.

"I resent that," Jonathan replied rebelliously, but he allowed her hand to curl around his.

"No you don't,"

"Some sister you are," Jonathan continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Absolutely no respect for your elders and betters,"

"You can talk,"

"Ah, I just remembered," Valentine started in a sober tone, as he sat with his arm draped over the back of his wife's chair. "We had a call from your Head Teacher's secretary, asking your mother and I to attend a meeting tomorrow afternoon,"

"What about?" Clary asked.

"No idea," Jocelyn replied with a shrug. "We thought you might know,"

Jonathan looked at his sister who shook her head, her forehead creasing faintly. "We don't know either, it could be anything,"

"So you haven't been skipping classes or anything else…?" Jocelyn clarified with a glint of suspicion in her eyes, almost unnoticeable.

"No." Jonathan answered firmly.

"What about you, Clarissa?" Valentine inquired, turning his impenetrable, black gaze on his daughter. Jonathan had to resist the impulse to physically shield her from their fathers glare.

"No, Father," Valentines face relaxed, as he gave Clary a nod and a serene smile; Jonathans muscles loosened up a little.

"Well, then. We'll just have to wait and see, wont we?"

* * *

~The Next Day~

"Mr. Starkweather, my wife and I had to leave work early to attend this meeting and you still have yet to explain why we are here,"

"Yes, of course. My apologies," the tweed-suited head teacher hobbled from where he'd been standing by the window, overlooking the grounds, to seat himself at his desk. Valentine glanced at his wife, who'd quietly reached out her hand to clutch his.

"If you leave us in suspense for much longer, we might start to think it's a serious matter," the white haired man went on, returning the pressure of his wife's hand as he turned back to the middle aged man behind the fancy desk.

"You would be correct in thinking so," Hodge Starkweather replied in a grave voice, avoiding eye contact with Valentine and instead, focusing on Jocelyn, who remained silent. "It involves both of your children, I'm afraid,"

"Both?" Valentine repeated, the crease at the bridge of his nose growing more pronounced. "Our children do not lie to us; we asked them if they had not been attending all of their classes-"

"That is trivial in comparison to what I witnessed yesterday," the head teacher said, cutting Valentine off.

"Could you please just tell us what Jonathan and Clary have done," Jocelyn demanded finally in a tired voice, seeing the glare forming in her husbands eyes towards the grey haired man before them.

"You really don't know then…" Hodge muttered to himself, while the Morgenstern's exchanged a look. The head teacher nodded slightly as he returned his cautious gaze to the parents. "Yesterday after lunch, I saw Jonathan and Clarissa…"

* * *

**_I only have 2 and 1/2 chapters left to write, so I thought I'd upload this now... :P_**

**_Oh nearly forgot, violence next chapter; discription, mild I would say, but strong in the act of violence._**


	10. Chapter 10

-9-

* * *

Wednesday early evening, Jonathan was sat in the front room with Clary, watching mindless TV. They were sitting casually side by side, Jonathans arm running along the back of the sofa, behind his sister.

_'Another?'_ he turned his head to see Clary's hand lifted towards him, a green scittle pinched between her thumb and finger. He opened his mouth in response and she popped the sweet onto his tongue; he closed his lips around her finger before she withdrew it, sucking and dragging his lips over it, smirking down at her all the while, with playful black eyes. When he released it, she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, the front door closed with a soft click. Jonathan scooted away from his sister and trained his gaze on the TV, seeing Clary breathe a muted sigh in his peripheral vision.

"Hey, Mum," she greeted in a carefree voice; when Jonathan heard no reply, he turned around in his seat, frowning as a strange atmosphere settled over the room. "How was the meeting…?"

Jocelyn was just outside the archway, looking at Clary with an unreadable expression on her face, and then her eyes shifted to Jonathan. He gazed back, a little uncertain as he took in the edge to her features, feeling his heartbeat pick up speed. Valentine came into view, his face devoid of all emotion. He placed his hand on his wife's shoulder for a moment, before walking ahead of her into the room. He hadn't looked at either of his children once. Jocelyn hesitated at the arm of the sofa closest to Clary, as her husband paced slowly once or twice and then came to a halt to the right of the TV.

"What's going on-?" Jonathan began.

"Turn off the TV," his father ordered, ignoring the question; Jonathan glanced at his mother, but she was now standing by the window seat, with her back turned. "I won't repeat myself, Jonathan." The white haired boy swiftly grabbed the remote off the coffee table and switched the TV off. Clary was deathly quiet and Jonathan didn't dare look in her direction. He stood up instinctively, swallowing past the rising trepidation long enough to meet his fathers razor-sharp gaze.

"Dad-?"

"Silence," Valentines resonating voice was soft, but the flash in his eyes froze his son in place, mouth shut. "As you well know, your mother and I have just come from a meeting with your head teacher. Last night at dinner, you both denied performing any actions against school regulations and as expected, you were telling the truth," Valentine paused from the pacing he had taken up again and glanced briefly between his children's looks of confusion and anxiety. Jonathan was still standing, his gaze rooted to his father as his breathing grew thinner and thinner. He felt as though the tense air was shrinking around him and would suffocate him if he didn't get out quick enough. But he couldn't move. He knew what was coming; he didn't know how or why it had happened, but it had. It was over. It was fun while it lasted.

"I can explain-" Jonathan staggered forward a step, fisting his trembling hands at his sides.

_'Jonathan…?'_

"Imagine my surprise- and that of your mothers- when Mr. Starkweather informed us that what you had done wasn't thieving, or vandalism, or any other mundane thing. But that you had, in fact, been caught "embracing"…" Valentine's voice had risen, even as his tone remained mildly incredulous. Jonathan heard Clary gasp as he stared back at their father, no longer able to break eye contact even if he wanted to. "What have you to say for yourself?"

"I…" Jonathan lifted his chin fractionally, returning his fathers grim expression. "I had sex with Clary."

_'Jonathan?!'_

Jocelyn let out a strangled noise from the window, spinning around and lunging for her son. Jonathan only had time to raise his arms to shield himself, as his mother repetitively hit at him with no real weight behind her hands. "Why-why-why-why?!"

"Stop, Mum!" Clary caught her elbows and none-too-gently yanked her back. Jonathan lowered his arms gradually, meeting his mother's tear-stained face.

"Mother-" before he could say any more, Jocelyn smacked him across the face.

"How could you?!"

"Jocelyn," Valentine promptly moved between them and stared intently down at his wife until she backed off, putting her face in her hands. Jonathan was still holding his cheek, which was rapidly turning a harsh, red colour against his naturally pallor. Valentine turned slightly, not fully facing his son.

"She is your sister," he said, baring his teeth slightly in disgust, as rage burned as black flames in his eyes. "Need I remind you…?"

"We both knew what we were doing," Clary said then, taking an unsteady step forward as she faced her father with honest determination. "And we'd do it again,"

"Clary!" Jocelyn snapped, gripping her daughter by the tops of her arms. "What did he do to you? What has he been telling you?"

"Jocelyn," Valentine shook his head, looking so tired that for a second, Jonathan went into shock, drowning in white noise. His father had never looked anything but strong and dependable and unyielding. "…we all know that this was consensual…"

Jocelyn looked at her husband, pain etched across her face as she shook her head, not wanting to believe it.

"He didn't brainwash me, if that's what you think," Clary said defiantly, angry tears pooling in her emerald eyes.

"Clarissa, sit down," Valentine commanded quietly, covering his eyes with a hand for a few seconds. She did as she was told; Jocelyn sat down next to her daughter and wrapped her in her arms. The energy had completely drained out of Jonathan now and all he could do was wait for his father to collect his thoughts.

Valentine breathed in deeply and then out through his nose, before turning to his son once again. "For how long?"

"Long enough," Jonathan answered, meeting his fathers gaze with blank eyes.

"Why?" Valentine questioned, his voice steely and his face tight.

Jonathan sighed, stiffly. "I don't think it really matters now, does it?" his tone was tinged with defeat as he continued to return his fathers stare.

_'What are you talking about?'_

"No." Valentine agreed, setting his jaw. "I don't suppose it does." Jonathan closed his eyes, grinding his teeth as he listened to his mothers sobs. He didn't reopen them until his fathers hand was clamped around his arm, a familiar wooden cane in the other.

"Father?" Clary attempted to extricate herself from her mother, but Jocelyn's arms tightened around her. "No- don't hurt him! Jonathan!" Jonathan allowed his father to drag him towards his bedroom door and shove him through it, trying to block out his sisters screams of protest.

Inside, the ivory haired boy took off his school shirt without instruction and braced his palms against the wall. Shutting the door, his father readied the weapon in his hands. In a warped sense, Jonathan was looking forward to it, hoping his father put all his strength into it, to rid him of everything wrong inside him, all his faults. However, when the first whip cracked across his spine, all he wanted was for it to end.

He clenched his teeth, a cloud of detachment falling over him as he made it his goal not to make a single noise. His skin simmered beneath the canes imprint, but he didn't focus on it, working to push it as far to the back of his mind as he could.

By the fifth, his entire back was aching as if it had been exposed to the surface of the sun. But still he made no sound. His eyes were squeezed shut, his clammy hands now fisted against the wall and sweat was beading on his forehead.

His father paused for so long after the ninth that for a fleeting moment, Jonathan thought he'd gone. His frame was dripping salt water and his vision was blurry, making him feel dizzy and sick. He raised his head and looked sideways at his father; Valentine was staring down at his white-knuckled hands, wound around the solid wood.

"Why, Jonathan? Why would you do something so beneath you?" he muttered, huskily. "Did we- I- not bring you up properly…? You must have known we would find out eventually, so why even risk-?"

"Because," Jonathan began unflinching as his fathers eyes sliced into his. "I love her."

"Impossible."

"It's not normal," the white haired boy replied, his voice holding all the strength he had left in him. "But it is possible."

Valentine's face twisted and then he brought the cane down for the last time. A coarse cry tore through Jonathan's lungs and out of his mouth as he slid to his knees on the floor, his body wracked with violent tremors. He bowed his head to the floor, covering it with his arms as if he feared his father would bludgeon him to death; he didn't hear the door go as Valentine left.

* * *

Clary's tears had run dry by the time it went silent in her brother's room. She was in her mothers arms still and although she wanted to push her away, she didn't have the strength to. Jocelyn was humming a lullaby, while she stroked her daughter's hair in a soothing motion. Clary found something profoundly grotesque about the whole thing, but she remained silently watching Jonathans door, waiting.

Without any warning, a loud cry of agony erupted from the room and she immediately started struggling to get free.

"Let me go!" she half begged, half shrieked as her mother held her back and salty water began to stream down her face again.

"Clary, no-" she ripped herself from her mothers grasp and made for the door, only to halt halfway there, registering her mothers arms close around her once more. The door had opened and her father came out, closing it and leaning back against it. She opened her mouth and then shut it as she saw her fathers face. Valentine looked mentally and physically exhausted, as if every strike he had bestowed upon his son had not only scarred Jonathan's back, but his own. Or maybe it was the situation in general that was wearing on his mind.

He looked through Clary and Jocelyn, not truly seeing them before he dropped the cane in his hand and walked slowly down the hall to his and his wife's bedroom. Clary could have sworn she saw tears collecting in her fathers eyes.

"Clary, I want you to go to your room," Jocelyn said, guiding her down the hall and away from Jonathan. "And I want you to stay there until I come back,"

"But-" Jocelyn took Clary's face in her hands as they arrived at her bedroom door and stared into her eyes pleadingly.

"No buts. You don't leave your room, okay?" Clary nodded solemnly, chewing on her lip. "Promise me,"

"I…promise…" she sighed heavily, wiping her face with a hand.

"That's my girl," Jocelyn kissed her on the forehead before leaving to see to her husband.

Clary pushed open her door and stepped over the threshold, but the moment she heard her parent's door close, she quietly moved back into the hallway, closing the door gently as she went. She counted ten erratic beats of her heart, holding her breath before creeping towards her brother's room, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds.

_'Jonathan…?'_ No reply. Clary reached his door, casting one last look down the hall before entering the room as stealthily as possible.

It was dark inside and she could barely make out her brothers form sprawled out on his bed, with the help of the dim moonlight filtering through the window. Clary debated over whether or not to turn the light on, but then thought better of it and felt her way towards him. She crawled onto the bed and knelt beside him; he was on his front, arms folded on the pillow above his head. He was facing away from her, but she stayed where she was, not touching him.

_'Jonathan?'_

She glanced down at his back, but it was too dark to determine the extent of the damage. She carefully leant over him to turn on the lamp on his bedside table, but his hand caught her around the wrist.

_'Don't look,'_ his voice within her mind sounded forced and dangerous. But as she pulled her arm back, she heard him release a shaky breath. She brushed his tousled hair aside and kissed the nape of his neck, closing her eyes for a short eternity.

_'Let me see…'_ she whispered into his thoughts, shifting so that she could glimpse one of his eyes.

_'Don't look at me,'_ his eyes shut as his reply echoed in her head like thunder.

After a short minute, she reached over and turned the lamp on, too fast for him to stop her. Jonathan attempted to hide his face in his pillow, but Clary heard the sniff and could see the wetness of his cheek. She pressed her lips to his jaw once and then sat back on her heels, lowering her gaze to his back. She stifled a sob with both of her hands, turning away for a moment to recover. She couldn't tell whether the reason the sight was so startling was because of her brother's white-marble skin, or because the wounds were so severe. Both, she concluded as she ran her eyes over his usually smooth plains, nausea rolling in her stomach.

Horizontal marks lined his back, each consisting of ridged and cracked skin, dotted with scarlet and a light shade of bruising forming. The surrounding skin was pink; it looked like sunburn, or it would have if it weren't for the vicious whip marks.

There was one mark however, stretching right across the middle of his spine that was too painful for Clary to look at for more than a couple seconds at a time. She knew it was the result of that last strike that she'd heard Jonathan scream out against. It was a deeper colour to the others, the shadow of bruising far more developed and the swelling progressing so much more quickly that it stood out, drawing her eye and transfixing her until it was all she could see.

She hugged her arms to herself, trying to swallow past the blockage in her throat. Her brother lay motionless, blinking away the tears that trickled down his face every so often.

"…I hate him." She muttered inaudibly, letting her eyes fall closed as she breathed out.

_'Don't,'_ her brother sounded calm now, a little tired as if he could drift off to sleep any second._ 'We're the ones in the wrong. You do know that, don't you?'_

_'That doesn't give him the right to do this to you,'_ she replied, wishing she could kiss his wounds all better, but not wanting to hurt him.

_'I don't know…'_ Jonathan began in an indifferent tone. _'He is our father, you know,'_

_'I don't care if he is. You haven't seen the damage-'_

_'I don't have to; I can feel it,' _Clary opened her eyes, seeing her brother fiddling absently with the corner of his pillow case.

_'For a moment there, earlier, when I came in,'_ she started, stroking his ivory hair and tucking it behind his ear._ 'I thought you were going to drive me away, tell me to leave,'_

_'I nearly did,' _he admitted, exhaling deeply through his nose.

_'I'll go if you want me to…'_ she told him, not letting her reluctance lace her tone.

_'You will?'_ Clary smiled a bit to herself, leaning down to kiss him twice tentatively on his temple.

_'I'll stay with you-'_

"Clary," the person in question straightened up, turning to look at their mother. Jocelyn was leaning back against the doorframe, her arms crossed loosely. "You promised me," her tone was nothing but wary, as if she were merely reminding Clary that she'd promised to do the washing up. Clary stopped herself from apologising, knowing that she wouldn't mean it and that Jocelyn wouldn't believe it. She touched her brother's shoulder delicately, feeling him shudder under her hand.

_'I'll come back.'_ She told him and then she moved to climb off the bed.

_'I'll be here,'_

She didn't look at their mother as she walked past into the hall, but she sensed her following after as she headed to her room.

"Clary," Jocelyn said, as Clary opened her bedroom door; she didn't turn, just stood, gripping the door handle. "I know you must hate me and your father right now. But you need to think about what we've just found out- and found out by a stranger no less…"

"If you're trying to make excuses for Father's behaviour-"

"There are no excuses, Clary. Just like there are no excuses for what you and Jonathan have done," Clary looked at her mother, who was visibly holding back tears and clutching her neck with a hand.

"Do you know that this is all my fault?" she asked rhetorically, seeing her mothers forehead crease, not comprehending. "I made him do it- I made him do everything. He wanted it, but he never would have touched me in his entire life if I'd given him a choice."

"I don't think that's true-" Jocelyn began, disbelief colouring her tones, but Clary went on.

"Do you know that I manipulated him into sleeping with me? I asked Simon out on a date- got all dolled up and then flaunted it in front of Jonathan. I told him I wouldn't go out with Simon if he let me have him instead. He resisted at first, but once I'd turned on the waterworks, I had him right where I wanted him," she paused, a sadistic smile on her face and a frosty glint in her green eyes. Jocelyn was speechless, wearing exactly the same expression Simon had when he'd walked in on her and her brother kissing. Jocelyn no longer recognised her daughter. "Now tell me Jonathan deserved what he got."

"…Simon?" intuition sparked within her mothers eyes. "He found out, didn't he?"

"He…" Clary faltered, her bravado evaporating into oblivion.

"You dragged that poor boy into this?" her mother shook her head, turning slightly and running a hand through her locks. "It all makes sense now…"

"He wasn't supposed to find out…no one was…"

"Well I hope it was worth it, Clary," Jocelyn quipped, though sadness and pity darkened her features.

"If you're really asking that…" Clary murmured, her eyes overflowing with emotion. "Then the answer would be yes…"

* * *

Jonathan had been staring at his clock for the past hour and a half, listening to its ticking and watching the hands move. His back was still aching and his body felt like jelly; he had a feeling that if he tried to get up, he'd just collapse back onto his bed, so he didn't try. He just lay there, watching time pass. He wasn't expecting anyone to come and tend to his wounds, but it still stung that not even his own mother had come to check on him, even if only to make sure he was still breathing.

He'd only been whipped once before- three short lashes to teach him not to steal from his father's wallet. It had been a stupid thing to do really, but he had been fourteen years old, barely a teenager considering his late growth spurt. His mother had used Savlon to ease his back, although the whips hadn't been hard. And it had been the one and only time she'd lulled him to sleep with the dulcet tones of her voice, as she'd often done for Clary over the years.

Even though she'd said she'd come back, he wasn't expecting his sister either. It probably wasn't the best idea anyway; he wasn't sure he could endure anymore whipping tonight. He thought about speaking to Clary's mind, just to hear her voice, but it was then that his bedroom door opened. He could have pretended he was sleeping, but he remained focused on the clock, counting the seconds going by.

The edge of the bed dipped next to him and he saw his mother in his peripheral vision. She'd come to check on him after all…or damn him to hell. She raised her hand towards him and without wanting to, he flinched; she hesitated, seeing his reaction and then proceeded to place her palm on his cheek, leaning over to kiss him on the forehead. Jonathan closed his eyes, hanging onto the intimate moment as if he'd never in his whole life, experienced motherly affection.

"I'm sorry for hitting you, baby," she whispered sincerely as she pulled back, gently running her fingers through his hair.

"I've had worse," Jonathan replied monotonously, his eyes still closed. Jocelyn glanced down at his back and then away, failing to prevent the tears brimming in her eyes from rolling down her cheeks.

"Would you stop if we asked you to?" Jonathan looked at her from the corner of his eye.

"I would try," he answered honestly, watching his mother nod slowly.

"I'm not sure Clary would…" she murmured to herself, looking down at her hands clasped in her lap. "Why didn't you come to me, Jonathan? Or your father? We could have helped the both of you-"

"How? By sending us to a therapist?" Jonathan countered, still no real emotion in his voice.

"Maybe…" she trailed off, roughly swiping at her eyes. "I'm sure it would have helped in some way- made it easier for you to live with your…impulses…"

"If I'd told either of you, Dad probably would have ended up trying to beat my 'impulses' out of me," he replied, his gaze fixed on his clock once more.

"Jonathan-!"

"Its better it happened this way. Now you and Dad have no choice but to accept this is the way I am; I can't change and it's never going to get any easier." Jocelyn sighed despairingly.

"What am I going to do with you…?" she said faintly, worry clouding her green eyes as she went back to stroking his hair.

* * *

_**So...reactions?**_

_**It was actually pretty hard to write Jonathan and Valentine here because its hard to know how they would act/react as ordinary humans who arent certifiably insane or part-demon.**_

_**Clarys wasnt so bad, but Jocelyn was a bit tricky because I have a hard enough time trying to understand her in the actual books. I guess it doesnt really matter since I've written them all pretty much OOC from the start, but meh.**_

_**Also, I was listening to Danger by Etro Anime while writing this and I was struck by how much that song fits with this fic :P**_


	11. Chapter 11

-10-

* * *

The following day, Clary had been sent to school while her brother remained at home with their mother. Their father had already left for work by the time she'd woken, but Jocelyn had been acting all business as usual, making breakfast and casually handing Clary her lunch money as she left for school. She hadn't seen Jonathan since the previous day- their mother adamantly refusing to let her- and she hadn't managed to sneak to his room during the night either because their parents had been in the living room talking, straight through to morning. As a result, Clary hadn't slept a wink, although she highly doubted that she would have anyway.

She was sure there were ugly bags under her eyes, although she hadn't looked in the mirror as she'd brushed her teeth that morning. She hadn't brushed her hair, leaving her messy, knotted curls down around her shoulders, without thinking about it once.

It was sixth period right now, but Clary had aimlessly found her way outside to the front steps, sitting at the top and hugging her knees. She couldn't remember a thing from the past six hours; she distantly recalled a moment in English, where she'd caught a worried look from Simon, however she wasn't completely certain that had been real, or a figment of her imagination. She hadn't eaten lunch and the only thing she'd had at breakfast was a cup of strong, black coffee. But even so, she barely registered the hunger pangs as she leant her forehead on her knees. She needed to see him. She needed him so much that she felt like screaming it from the top of her lungs, until their parents understood that one single fact; until everyone understood. If Jonathan was the sun, she was the moon, endlessly a prisoner to his gravity.

"Clarissa Morgenstern," she raised her head, startled out of her reverie. Mr. Starkweather towered over her slightly, not looking at her as he clasped his hands behind his back in a scholarly fashion. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

Clary stiffly rose to her feet, adjusting her rucksack awkwardly. "I'm sorry, Sir. I'll be going…"

"If I'm honest," Hodge began, before she'd taken a step; Clary hesitated, her forehead creasing faintly as she looked at her feet. "I wasn't expecting either you or your brother here today." The redhead's eyes flickered up and then away at the mention of her brother, her cheeks instantly heating up. "Still, I can imagine your parent's reason for doing as they have,"

"Keeping us separate?" Clary remarked, not bothering to hide the bitter edge to her tone.

"Indeed," the head teacher nodded once in agreement before finally looking at her, his expression sincere. "However, dismissing one child and focusing their attention on the other, couldn't be good for either, I should think. And you are looking a little unwell, I must say," Clary bit her lip, feeling uncomfortable under the grey haired mans compassionate scrutiny.

In the light from the afternoon sun, the jagged scar down the right side of the head teachers face stood out, threatening to taint the integrity currently gracing his features.

"I don't feel well," Clary admitted, weakly rubbing her sleep-deprived eyes.

"Well, then I suggest you take the rest of the day off," Mr. Starkweather surprised her in saying, looking back over the grounds, a wry smile forming on his face. Clary openly stared at him with raised eyebrows, slow to react. "I shall personally see to it that this isn't marked as an unauthorised absence. You're free to go," on cue, he turned and gradually made for the double doors of the entrance.

"Thank you, Sir!" Clary called belatedly, before taking the steps down two at a time and running for the gate.

* * *

As Clary closed the front door, she fisted her keys in her palm to stop them jingling. She moved quietly into the living room; it was empty, but the DVD player was whirring and the TV was paused on what she immediately recognised as The Crow. She lightly dropped her keys on the coffee table and set her bag down on the sofa, before walking across to her brother's bedroom door. She stopped in her tracks, her hand still in the process of reaching for the handle, as she heard a door shut to her right. She looked down the hall, her heartbeat spiking as she mentally willed it not to be her mother.

The air left her lungs in both relief and anxiety as she saw Jonathan walking towards her from the bathroom. His shoulders were slouched and his hands were shoved into the pockets of his jeans as he padded barefoot, down the hall. When he looked up, she noticed that he had shadows beneath his eyes and his complexion was as white as a sheet, ghostly compared to his natural tone.

As he saw her, he froze, quickly glancing in the direction of the front door before striding towards her, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her into his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind them.

"Clary, what are you doing here?" he demanded, looking and sounding furious. The redhead blanched, confused by his response to seeing her. "Mother will be back any second; what will she think if she sees you?"

"Mr. Starkweather said I could go home, so I did," she replied defensively, feeling like a scolded child. "And I wanted to see you, but you obviously aren't pleased to see me." She added, crossing her arms self-consciously.

Jonathan's features softened significantly, as he cupped her face in his hands and leant his forehead on hers. "You stupid girl. Of course I wanted to see you."

_'Show me,'_ she whispered to his mind, her lips parting involuntarily under the tension between their mouths. Her brothers eyes slid closed as he hesitantly captured her mouth with his. She gasped under the pressure and the guttural moan he released on impact, slipping her hands beneath his t-shirt and raking his chest with her nails. As he swirled his tongue around hers, his arms wound around her waist, pinning her to him like a vice.

While his lips moved to the side of her neck, her hands inched around to his back, her fingertips skimming over the ruined strips of skin. The marks still felt raw and tender. However her inspection was interrupted as Jonathan backed up, pulling her hands away from him and holding them between their bodies.

_'Clary, you need to leave, or go and hide in your room- whichever,'_ he told her in a sobered tone, looking down at their hands as ivory locks fell across his eyes.

_'Do they still hurt?'_ she asked, moving back into his personal space and reaching up to brush his hair aside.

_'They're healing,'_ he had ignored the question, but she allowed herself to be pacified by the reassurance in his voice and the distracting touch of his fingers on the back of her neck, hidden amongst her curls. _'Now, will you go to your room, or go to the park for the next hour before Mother catches us?'_

_'It doesn't matter if she catches us anymore- they already know,'_ Clary pointed out easily, nuzzling and grazing his neck with her teeth.

_'It matters more than ever,'_ Jonathan sighed against her hair as he rubbed his hands up and down her back. _'We have no idea what they're going to do about us yet,'_

_'What can they do? They can't stop us from seeing each other, we live together,' _she cupped his chin and brought his mouth down on hers, savouring the kiss as best she could before releasing him. _'Okay, I'll be in my room doing homework,'_ she untangled herself from his arms and moved past him to the door.

As she opened it, she felt his hand on her hip, turning her back towards him. He drew her back into his arms, hugging her tightly and burying his face in her shoulder. She looped her arms around his neck, fingers curling into his silky hair. She heard him inhale deeply, lingering for a moment more and then he let go.

* * *

Clary was sat in the window seat in the living room, gazing blindly towards the buildings across the road. Her brother was sitting on the couch, leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees, staring straight ahead. Their mother was standing in the archway, splitting glances between them as they all anticipated Valentines arrival home.

The front door sounded and Clary saw her mother shift, straightening up and walking slightly into the room. The redhead stilled, refraining from sending Jonathan a nervous glance. She listened as her father set his things down in the entrance and stepped through the arch. She didn't look at him, only down at her hands as she picked at her cuticles.

"Your mother and I have spoken at length about our current predicament," he began, standing next to his wife as he looked first towards Clary and then the back of his sons head; Jonathan got to his feet, turning to face their parents.

"This wasn't an easy decision," Jocelyn put in, a ghost of a smile lighting her face as her husband put his arm around her. Clary waited, her muscles tensing up as she felt a bad vibe taint the air; her hands had frozen in place but she continued staring down at them.

"Jonathan, your uncle has agreed to let you go and stay with him in Germany," Valentine said in a stern voice. Clary's head shot up, her fists clenching. "We didn't give him a particular reason for sending you abroad and he didn't ask,"

"Father, what do you mean you're-!" the redhead started frantically, standing up, but Jonathan cut her off.

"For how long?"

"Until you are done with your education. That includes university," their father answered shortly, his steady gaze on his son.

"No…" Clary shook her head vigorously. "You can't do that!"

"You have no word in the matter, Clarissa." Her father intoned, his black eyes glaring down at her.

"Yes I do! He's my brother and sending him away isn't gonna change anything!" she shouted desperately, fear-induced rage boiling in her blood.

"Clary, don't-" Jonathan began in a firm voice, but she didn't hear him.

"You're not taking him away from me!"

"This is not a discussion." Valentine declared sharply, folding his arms over his chest.

"We've made up our minds, Clary," Jocelyn said in a tired voice as the hot tears welled up in her daughters eyes. "Jonathan is leaving tomorrow whether you like it or not."

"Tomorrow?!" Clary rasped, hugging her torso and finding it hard to breathe.

"This is for the best, Clarissa," her father told her in an infinitely calmer tone. Clary's head snapped up, her body rushing with pure hatred. She flew at her father, ready to hit and kick out at him until she could no longer stand. But then her brother was there, locking his arms around her shoulders from behind and holding her back.

"Clary, calm down-"

"Let go of me!" she choked out, clawing at his arms, her fiery emerald gaze locked on her target. Valentine gave a muted sigh, looking at his daughter with almost melancholic eyes; Jocelyn had moved between them, shielding her husband with a mildly guarded expression, her pulse quick in her throat.

_'No.'_

Clary let out a hoarse sob as she heard the word bounce off the walls of her mind, laced with finality. "They can't make you leave me…"

_'Yes, they can.'_ Even as his words shot acid through her veins, his mental-voice was soft and quelling.

She went slack in his arms, leaning back into him and closing her eyes. "They can't stop us from being together…"

_'Hush…'_

* * *

At twelve-past-midnight, Clary quietly ghosted down the hall to her brother's room, her senses dulled by the lack of light and the pain in her chest.

"Clarissa," she stopped, looking up to see her father in a white t-shirt and grey slacks, a glass of water in hand. She didn't respond, just stood there looking at him. After a pause, he continued walking until he was next to her, where he halted; she felt a light press to her shoulder. "Say your goodbyes." She didn't watch him go, simply took the few remaining steps to her brother's door and entered.

* * *

Jonathan was throwing clothes into a second duffel bag, which was sat on his unmade bed, the first set down beside his door. He'd figured he may as well start packing now, guessing his father had picked the earliest flight out the next day. He had already put aside fresh clothes for tomorrow and packed his first bag full of CDs and books and general miscellany, which he had decided he wasn't leaving behind. He was only wearing boxers, due to the summer heat filling the room, despite the open window and the night air; his mother had put all his dirty laundry in the wash earlier on and hung them out on the clothes horse, in the living room.

He felt numb as he mechanically zipped up his bag and placed it on top of the other. He knew it hadn't been healthy bottling up all his despair earlier on, as he'd watched his sister exert her anger, but if he hadn't stayed calm, he dreaded to think what would have happened. His mind wandered back to Clary, unbidden. The irony of the situation was almost too much to bear; just when he'd completely forgotten about the danger of their actions, it had attacked with its torturous talons. His stupidity had been bewildering considering they'd already been caught once, by Simon. And yet, how could he resist the temptation to lose himself in his sister, when she'd already lost herself in him.

He had been the one to destroy their private world within each other. He had been the one who'd kissed her in the middle of a school corridor, where anyone could have seen them- and had seen them, as clear as glass. He fisted his hair in his hands, closing his eyes and exhaling through his nose.

Slowly, he reopened them and moved over to his desk, physically suppressing the urge to throw his chair across the room. He began methodically going through the draws, picking up his rucksack from the floor and tossing notebooks and his navy, bound photo album into it.

The door closed behind him and he shut his eyes, placing his rucksack on the desk. He was aware that his damaged back was in plain view, but he couldn't bring himself to turn around just yet, listening to the light footsteps approaching. When they stopped, he finally looked over his shoulder, turning slightly. Clary stood a few feet from him, in a white vest top and mint-green, flowery pyjama shorts. As their eyes met, she lifted her top up over her head- her milky skin straining over her ribcage for a second- and then let it fall to the floor. His gaze remained on her face, watching the blood rise to her cheeks as she shimmied out of her shorts and kicked them aside. He licked his lips, his mouth dry as her eyes looked back up at him, dark with intent.

She was the most heavenly creature he had ever seen and would ever see.

There was no denying it; not anymore. "I love you."

He broke the distance between them and picked her up- her legs automatically hooking around his waist- and carried her to the bed. They didn't kiss yet, only looked at one another, committing each others face to memory. He laid her down, his hands gliding up her thighs to pull her knickers off her legs before he trailed hungry kisses from her belly button, up to her throat. He rubbed his penis against her, where it was rapidly hardening inside his boxers, as he sucked at her collarbone and neck, lapping at her skin like a dog.

Clary was breathing loudly, her nails biting into his shoulders as her pelvis bucked to grind against him. He moved down her body, swirling his tongue around her right nipple as he did, feeling her fingers fasten into his hair. He swiped at her entrance with his tongue, relishing in the way she squirmed and gasped. He pushed it inside as far as he could, twisting it in and out and sucking at her, making it increasingly difficult for her to stifle her moans. The taste of her natural juices was tantalising, the perfect blend of bitter-sweet and he savoured it, storing it in the furthest corner of his mind, which was reserved for his sister.

Her hips titled up instinctively as he continued to pleasure her with his mouth, her entire frame shivering under his hands. He went on for another minute, massaging her breasts all the while, until she was desperately clenching and unclenching her fingers in his hair. He half sat up and shoved his boxers down his legs before leaning over her to his bedside table, clumsily rummaging through the draw for a condom, as she leant up to nip savagely at his neck, scrambling his thought processes.

As he grasped a packet, he found himself suddenly rolling. Clary swiped the packet out of his hand, ripping it open and sliding down him to take his penis in hand. He flipped it over to the correct side for her, before groaning into her shoulder as she palmed it onto him. If he thought that felt good, his mind was about to be shattered to pieces by desire, as his sister pushed him down on the bed and lowered herself onto his dick. His eyes rolled back in his head as a sigh rushed out of his mouth.

As inexperienced as she was, he barely registered the awkwardness of her movements as he watched her ride him with hooded, black eyes, his hands cupping and squeezing her breasts.

As her movements became more choppy and sporadic and sweat ran down her spine, Jonathan rolled them, trapping her between his body and the mattress. He gripped her thighs, spreading her legs as far as they would go and as he thrust his thrumming member into her, he claimed her mouth, licking into her again and again, until she was gasping and arching beneath him, needing him to move against her. He chuckled and groaned into her mouth as he rocked in and out of her, making sure he hit the right spot each time and wanting her to bite down on his lip harder so that she broke skin.

When he noticed her muffled mewls, he quickened his pace, pounding deep inside her as she caught his tongue between her lips, sucking it in and out of her mouth like it was an ice lolly. And then she released a short scream, which he instantly swallowed as he felt her muscles clamp around his dick, making every thrust gloriously unbearable; he came hard, back arching and his body shuddering uncontrollably.

His body went limp on top of her as he rested his forehead on hers, his hands placed either side of her neck and his thumbs brushing back and forth. They were panting as they drank in the content in each others eyes.

Jonathan eventually lay his head down on her chest, a tranquil smile lighting his sharp features. He drifted off soundly as Clary delicately traced his scarred back with her fingertips.

* * *

**_They're pretty lucky that Valentine decided to turn a blind eye... ;)_**

**_Also, 50 bizillion points if you've ever watched The Crow (the original '94 one). 100 bizillion points if you've read the graphic novel, which sadly, I have not..._**


	12. Chapter 12

-11-

* * *

When Jonathan awoke the next morning, the humid heat of the sun was beating down on his back and the side of his face, through the window. Slowly, he became aware of the warm body beneath him, chest rising and falling steadily against his cheek. He hummed, kissing the soft skin his lips met with and sleepily propped himself up on an elbow. His pelvis was still between his sisters thighs, her legs tangled with his and the condom from the night before hanging off the end of his limp penis. He retrieved tissue from the box on his bedside table and wrapped the sticky rubber in it, tossing it onto the floor beside the bed.

He yawned as he glanced towards his clock, which told him it was seven-fifteen. Clary was as quiet as a dor mouse under him, breathing through her mouth and fiery curls obscuring half of her face. Jonathan nestled into the side of her neck, pressing butterfly kisses up and down the sensitive skin found there. He felt her stirring, her arms coming up around him and a hand twisting into his ivory locks.

_'You smell like me,'_ he said into her mind, smirking as he gave her earlobe a flick with his tongue. She sighed, not fully awake yet, hooking a leg around his waist as her fingertips traced his marked shoulder blades. Jonathan raised his head, brushing his sister's hair behind her ears as she gradually blinked her eyes open.

As he studied her freckled face, watching the corners of her mouth turn up into a blissful smile, he felt his dick twitch between her legs. She ran her fingers through his tousled hair and then guided his lips to hers, her leg tightening around him. The kiss was short lived however, due to Clary pulling back with an anxious expression.

_'Jonathan, you're leaving today…'_ her voice was a tense murmur inside his head as he stared down into her wide green eyes. He nodded slightly, before Clary sat up, hugging him to her in a death-grip.

_'I won't be gone forever,'_ he attempted to soothe her, kissing her shoulder and rubbing her back in circular motions.

_'I don't want you gone at all,'_ she replied fiercely, but he heard her sniff and felt the moisture dampening the base of his neck. He pulled away to cup her face in his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs.

_'I'll come back. I promise.'_ He held her glistening emerald eyes in his fathomless onyx ones until she nodded weakly, placing her hands over his. He brought his mouth down on hers tentatively, tasting the salty tang of her tears, before proceeding to bestow velvet presses of his lips to every inch of her body, beginning with the palm of her hand and moving down to the crease of her elbow.

He was going to make the most of their last moment of privacy, not caring if either of their parents walked in. Soon, Clary was going to be out of his life completely, not even in the same country. This was the last time she was going to be exactly where she was right now and he was going to prolong it for as long as he possibly could. He would hold onto the memory of this moment for all the time that he was away from her, until he found his way back to her and they could start over with new memories.

_'Do you think we'll still be able to hear each other?'_ his sister's voice floated into his head, breaking his concentration as he kissed her inner thigh; her tone was less than hopeful, sounding vacant.

_'Probably not…'_ he answered truthfully, moving to kiss her stomach.

_'What am I going to do without you…?'_ she responded, her voice a woeful murmur. He swallowed and wet his lips, crawling back up her body.

_'You won't give up,'_ he told her, a determined edge to his tone. _'You'll go on, living your life.'_

_'And you'll do the same?'_

_'Yes,' _Jonathan touched his mouth to her temple and her nose and finally her jaw.

_'What if we ran away?'_ she asked, playing with a lock of his hair. Jonathan sighed, leaning his forehead on hers.

_'And where would we go?'_ he questioned easily, counting the gold flecks in her green eyes.

_'Anywhere,'_ she shrugged half-heartedly, leaning up to nibble on his bottom lip. _'We could go anywhere we wanted…'_ he gave her a chaste kiss on the mouth, lingering for a few seconds.

_'We can't.'_ He ran his tongue over her throat, feeling her shiver beneath him, a sigh escaping her lips.

_'But what if you forget me?'_ she asked, starting to sound breathless as he sucked at the side of her neck.

_'You'd sooner forget me,'_ he replied serenely, as he dragged a hand down over her chest to curve around to her bum, which he squeezed provocatively.

_'I want you…'_ Clary moaned as he took her left breast into his mouth, sucking on it vigorously.

He lifted his face to look her in the eyes, love smouldering in his own. _'You have me. You will always have me.'_

* * *

"You're sure you have everything?" Jonathan cast his eye around the bedroom a final time as his mother stood patiently in the doorway.

"Yes…" he nodded, turning to look at her and receiving a smile of encouragement. He returned it faintly, before slinging the strap of his rucksack over his shoulder and moving to stand before her, where she placed her hand on his arm.

"We'll call you once a week, okay?" she said in a matter of fact tone, brushing invisible fluff off his t-shirt.

"You and Dad?" he clarified with a guarded expression.

"Yeah," he looked away from her wide, sympathetic eyes, so like his sisters. "Clary will be starting sixth form in the fall, so she'll be busy…"

"She won't be allowed to write to me either?" he asked bluntly, jaw clenching as his mother began to shake her head.

"No contact," she murmured, taking a breath as Jonathan briefly closed his eyes. "This is a fresh start for both of you. You need to learn how to…breathe without each other. Do you understand…?" he opened his eyes, not looking at his mother as he nodded.

"Time to go!" Valentine called from the front room. After a pause, Jonathan headed out to where his father was waiting with his hand resting on Clary's shoulder, Jocelyn following behind. "Ready?"

The white haired boy looked at his sister, who was standing close to their father with her eyes downcast; she looked so tiny and lost that for a second, he pictured himself tucking her into the side-pocket of his bag and taking her with him. But Clary wasn't a doll, she was a human being and their father had been right- this was for the best. He met Valentines enigmatic gaze and gave a firm nod.

"Let's get this over with."

* * *

The car ride to the airport was silent, a blanket of frigid air hanging over them, despite the temperature. Jonathan sat with his window rolled all the way down and his head leaning against the frame. Clary was sat on the opposite side of the BMW, in much the same fashion, although her chin was resting on her fist.

He'd been thinking about the promise he'd made her that morning- that he would come back. He was starting to have doubts over whether it had been a wise decision to make. He didn't want his sister to wait for him…

The right thing to do would be to leave and never return. However after everything that had happened, he no longer felt strong enough to stay away, to let her go. He didn't want her to find someone else- she was his and his alone. Except she wasn't; he belonged to her and she could do as she pleased with him.

All these conflicting thoughts and emotions swimming around in his head were giving him a splitting headache. But it all boiled down to one simple fact: he didn't want to go. He'd almost tricked himself into believing he was okay with it- that he'd survive somehow- but in all honesty, he didn't want to leave his sisters side even for a second. He felt like he was a kid again, at Clary's fifth birthday party, clinging to the folds of her dress, nervous and fearful of the surrounding children and their parents.

He reached out to take her hand in his, seeking solace as he kept his eyes straight ahead.

Clary closed her eyes as her brothers fingers entwined with hers. He was saying goodbye, she knew it, but she couldn't handle it. She felt like she was bleeding internally, as if she'd donated her heart to him, forgetting that she was still alive and in need of it. She would never say goodbye, not even if she had to spend the rest of her life without him. She would continue to wait for him, whether he came back for her or not.

_'Clary,'_ she looked over at him, only now noticing the tears that had spilled down her cheeks. Jonathan was looking at her with haunted eyes, his hand tightening in hers. _'Don't cry, my love…'_

_'I can't help it,'_ she sniffed, scrubbing at her face with her free hand, looking away from his black eyes. She couldn't look at him, while knowing their time together was limited. _'I'm never gonna see you again, am I-?'_

"We're here."

* * *

Clary watched in devastation as her brother said his goodbyes to their parents. She kept thinking their father was going to turn around and declare that he'd changed his mind and Jonathan could stay. Or that this would all turn out to be some elaborate prank that was never going to be funny.

"Mother…" the redhead took a shaky breath as Jonathan hugged Jocelyn, his eyes closing. To any of the dozens of passersby, he looked peaceful- perhaps assuming that this was a welcome home, rather than a farewell. But Clary saw panic, from the accelerated pulse in his neck to the tongue that darted out to wet his lips.

"I love you, honey," Jocelyn was saying, pulling back to cup her sons face and kiss him on the cheek. "Take care of yourself,"

"Love you too," Jonathan responded, colour rising along his cheekbones as a timid look crossed his face, before he moved on to Valentine. "Dad…"

"Jonathan," their father nodded stoically, putting his hand out. Her brother shook it twice, before Valentine enveloped him in a hug.

Jonathan said something under his breath, which sounded like, "…take care of her…"

Clary found herself yearning for her brother's touch, wanting him to hold her in his strong arms until the end of time.

"As I always have done," their father pledged, giving his son a hearty pat on the back.

"Thank you." Jonathan straightened up, his eyes shining suspiciously as they strayed back towards Clary, who looked away.

"You never know, you might like it in Germany; you might not want to come back," Valentine said, arm wrapping around his wife, who had curled into his side.

"Maybe…" Clary wanted to run; run as far away from here as possible and keep on running until she could no longer remember who she was, or who her brother was to her. She hadn't realised her eyes were closed until she felt Jonathans arms encircle her shoulders, tucking her head under his chin.

_'Clary,'_ he breathed into her mind, a note of torment tainting his tone. Her hands fisted in his t-shirt as she pressed her face into his chest, inhaling his scent, the scent she loved. She felt his head lower to her shoulder, where their parents couldn't see, with his lips hovering next to her ear. "I love you."

Clary sobbed, sagging against him and clinging tighter to his t-shirt. Tiny gasps were falling from her lips as her brother pulled away, unfastening her grip on him and stepping away. She looked up at him imploringly; his eyes were like panels of glass painted black, her emerald gems shattering against them.

"Well, behave for your uncle," Valentine began imperiously, causing their moment to break and dissolve into nothingness. Clary bowed her head, clutching her elbows as her brothers gaze flickered back to their parents.

"And work hard," Jocelyn added, her hand resting on her husbands chest.

"And remember: you're our son and we love you." Valentine finished, meaning softening his dark eyes as he returned his wife's smile.

"I won't forget."

Clary slowly raised her head as her brother began walking away from them, away from her. It was her nightmare returned to her, except this wasn't a field of magnolias and she wasn't trapped in a six year olds body.

"Jonathan!" she simultaneously screamed aloud and into his thoughts. He jolted to a stop, his hand going to his head as he turned to look at her, visibly wide-eyed. _'I love you.'_ She whispered along the frequency connecting their minds, mouthing the words as she did. His mouth quirked up on one side even as his eyes shone with heartache. He lifted his hand slightly, in the gesture he'd used when they were children. And she knew: regardless of the distance, he would come home to her, eventually.

Watching him go, Clary smiled through her tears, turning into her father's side as he wordlessly held his arm out for her.

* * *

~4 Days Later~

It was Wednesday afternoon and Simon Lewis was slouching through the school doors, shouldering past the other students as they stopped to talk, or waited for friends. The boy with the thick, dark brown hair paused on the bottom step to remove his glasses and polish them with his tie. His last lesson of the day had been P.E. and he was bone-tired, his knee throbbing mildly from attempting to retrieve the football from the opposing team, only to slip and skid across the Astroturf.

He sighed as he pushed his rectangular glasses back onto his face, his vision clearing. He started towards the gate and then slowed, glimpsing a flash of red up ahead, amongst the crowd. His legs carried him forward again, jogging to catch up as his bag bounced rather uncomfortably, against his back.

"Clary!" he called, jostling a blond boy, who promptly glared at him. "Clary," the redhead stopped, spinning around so fast that she startled him half to death. There was an ardent light in her eyes, not unlike hope, but it soon dimmed and faded away as she took in Simons face.

"Oh…" was all she said, her shadowed, green eyes wandering off to the side, as if caught up in her own world.

"I…heard about your brother…" Simon began, scratching the back of his neck and watching his ex-best friends entire frame stiffen. "Your mum told my mum…" he shrugged awkwardly, wincing at himself.

"Our parents found out," she murmured almost wistfully, her gaze still glazed over and angled away from him. "They sent Jonathan away…" something changed in her face and her eyes snapped up to his, a question forming in them. _Was there something you wanted?_

"I was wondering if you might…wanna come round? You know, to watch anime or we could watch the Matrix trilogy or-"

"So now that he's gone, you wanna be friends again?" Clary said harshly, dead behind her eyes.

"No, that's not why I-" Simon began, hastily trying to back-track.

"Just say it! You're glad he's gone- everybody's glad he's gone; I mean, why wouldn't they be? What a relief it must be!" Clary looked and sounded half-wild, but the whites of her eyes had turned pink, water welling up to skirt the rims. "What are you looking at?!" she hissed, scowling at the students who had stopped to stare at her outburst. Simon put his hands on her shoulders, regaining her attention and locking her manic gaze with his coffee-coloured one.

"You're right, I was glad when I found out he'd gone. I was relieved. But I'm not anymore, because I can see what its doing to you. You look terrible, Clary…you look like you need a friend. And it's fine if you don't want to see me or talk to me- but you need _someone_," she bit her lip, blinking as the tears began to fall. "I won't stand by and watch you crumble away."

"I need _him_…" she whispered, her voice cracking as she squeezed her eyes shut, as if she could close them to the truth of her words. Simon cautiously pulled her into his arms, resting his cheek against her unruly curls.

"I know, Clary, I know…it's gonna be okay…I'm here…you're gonna be okay…" he rocked her gently from side to side, as his shirt soaked up the salt-water.

"I don't know if I can do this, Simon…" she croaked, shaking her head as she sobbed.

"You can, Clary. You're strong, you always have been. You can do this," he told her, rubbing her back supportively.

"I don't know how to live without him…" she confided, small gasps making their way out of her mouth.

"Then you'll learn to," he reassured her, pulling back to look into her distraught eyes. "And I'll be here every step of the way, if you ever need me…" she nodded, swallowing hard before a grateful smile morphed her tear-streaked features.

"Okay…" she murmured meekly, her breath hitching again as she roughly wiped her face on her arm. "Okay."

* * *

**_I like to imagine the blond boy that glared at Simon was Jace :P_**

**_Is this...the end...?_**


	13. Chapter 13

-12-

* * *

It was early December; the trees were bare and spidery, the temperature had dropped from 16 to 11˚C in the past couple of days and weather forecasts were predicting snow again this year. Clary equally loved and detested snow. When she was little, she'd eagerly anticipated it, ready for snowball fights with Simon and-

She'd dance in it too, trying to catch the flakes on her tongue. Nowadays however, she shied away from anything white or black, and any combination of the two made her feel ill, thawing her heart; clothes, mobile phones, jewellery, appliances, cats…She even found it difficult being around her father because of it, among other things. But since moving out, it had gotten easier. It was like she could breathe again, almost.

Unfortunately, no longer living at home with her parents didn't equal never having to see them. They had lunch every two weeks- it would have been every week, if Clary hadn't brandished the 'I have work' card. And it was true- the redhead had divided her life into eight sections. Her job- she worked at an art shop, which she sold her artwork to whenever she could. Her evening art class every Thursday. Her art, as passionate and time-consuming as it was.

Her graphic novel, which was now up to volume five of series three; her melancholic hero had been brought back from the brink of death, a grand total of six times- the series one, three-part finale had been a tempestuous struggle. Her obligated meal with her parents. And general shopping, eating and sleeping- not that she ever got more than a couple hours worth of rest. Hanging out with Simon and work colleagues always coincided with eating, so as not to disrupt her busy schedule of creating, drawing and painting.

Clary's life was full, and it was empty. But she wasn't unhappy. If anything, she was a draw-bridge away from contentment. The only time she felt herself shrivel up inside, shrinking in on her organs, was when confronted with her fathers near-perfect ensemble of black and white features; near-perfect because they were only a draft of the true masterpiece, which was the face of her-

Clary opened her eyes, breathing out a white gust of carbon dioxide and taking in the view before her once again. She was in her favourite park, in her favourite spot, with a sketchbook in her lap. She was in a green, velvet, hooded jacket and tight jeans that bunched up around her boots. A pencil was poised in her fingerless-gloved hand as she focused her eyes back on the fountain in the distance. She was cupping a flask in her free hand, which she brought up to her mouth, sipping luke-warm chocolate. Clary had almost a clear view of the fountain since the trees had shed their leaves and she made the most of it by concentrating on sketching the round base, through the twigs and branches.

_'Clary…'_

The ghost of a familiar, sultry voice rebounded off the walls of her mind, causing a tender smile to light her features. Absently, she flipped to the back of her sketchbook, studying the unfinished drawing hidden there. It was like gazing at someone from a far- they could be anyone, they could be mistaken for anyone. As they get closer, you gradually see them as they are, but it's when they get right up close to you, that you see them as a person separate and unique to everyone else. You might love them; you might not understand them; you might even hate them. But you see them.

All Clary could see right now was a half-finished drawing and nothing else. _Jonat-_

She abruptly closed the book, rifling in her bag for her graphic novel, her dark prince calling out to her. She breathed out in relief- a cloud rising from her lips- when she found it, wallowing at the bottom of her bag from lack of central attention. She carefully opened it up to her current page and studied it for a moment.

Her hero was in the middle of facing off against a tyrant of a man, a damsel clinging to his arm in dread. Clary curled the lips of her unhappy hero downwards on one side, tracing his fine eyebrows pulled together and then she heard the voice again.

_'Clary…?'_

She stilled, twisting her pencil in her hands.

_'Clarissa…'_ she placed the pencil neatly in her pencil case and then raised her eyes, giving into temptation. Her heart broke at the phantom before her standing on the path. It was so perfect it was too much to bear. _So I'm hearing voices and hallucinating…it doesn't look good…_

She tore her eyes away, packing her things into her bag and folding up her picnic blanket. She took one last swig of her cold chocolate before dumping it inside her bag and swinging the thin strap across her shoulder blades. The apparition had moved towards her, frosted grass crushing beneath his combat boots.

"Don't tell me, you don't recognise me…" something in its voice or about its voice, made her stop. It was deeper- matured- and somehow non-descript, as if it held no specifically dominant accent. And yet she knew, without a doubt, that it belonged to her-

"Why are you here? Have I finally lost it…?" she uttered, her eyes averted as she shook her head, trying to clear it. She heard a sigh and a muttered string of Germanic words. She saw it take a step towards her from the corner of her eye and she turned her head slightly, so that she could coolly regard its face. The razor-sharp cheekbones, the plush mouth, the impenetrable eyes with the fringe of curled lashes…

Its jaw seemed more pronounced, its nose a little narrower and it looked an inch or so taller than the teenage boy who lived in her memory. There was more she realised; its hair, although as tousled as ever, was definitely a smidge longer or thicker, or both and despite the bottom half of its face being smooth, she could tell it was the result of shaving.

Either she'd conjured up an elaborately detailed, adult version of-

Or…

"You look afraid of me…" he murmured, a foot away from her now, the corner of his mouth turning down; she continued to stare at him, her voice stuck somewhere at the base of her throat and her hands balled at her sides. "I should never have come back…I've left it too late…" he started to back up, his black eyes searching her face as if to memorise it. Clary started to panic as he moved further away, her feet rooted to the ground. His face was becoming hazier and hazier and then he was turning around.

_"Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern!"_

The person in question halted, his sisters cry echoing in his ears and within his head. Anxiety was tied around his heart, so tight that he feared it would starve of oxygen.

_'Don't you dare take another step away from me. You finally came back to me, after all this time, and now you're just going to run away?!'_ he turned round to face her, his face twisted by the raw pain in his sisters mental-voice. He was surprised and a little proud to see that she hadn't been reduced to tears. Her face was an epitome of fortitude.

_'I'm not going anywhere.'_ he told her, his onyx gaze locking with her emerald one.

_'Say that again…'_ her voice was a shaky whisper, as if she still didn't quite believe this was real.

_'I am not going anywhere.'_ he repeated, unflinching; Clary laughed a bit, weakly hugging her body. _'Not without you.'_

_'Come here…' _she responded, staggering forwards.

Without a word, he crossed the short expanse between them and caught her up in his arms in a fierce embrace, burying his face in her wild, red hair. She gasped, nails digging into his shoulders through his black trench coat and a hand knotting into his white locks. He clenched his hands in her jacket and inhaled her scent, nostalgia sending him back to another time and place.

An untamed need and desire burned in his gut and behind his eyes as he held her against him. He lifted his head to look at her, their faces inches apart. He licked his lips, his eyes hooding as they travelled back and forth between her ferocious, green gaze and her parted lips; his breath came quickly, his nose flaring. She was trembling in his arms like a frightened kitten, but her freckled face was mirroring his want and increasing it tenfold.

They'd both changed somewhat over the past years, but it seemed that at least one thing had remained the same: the passionate, encompassing love they held for each other, as abnormal as it was real.

Looking at her properly- as opposed to looking at the sixteen year old girl who haunted both his sleeping and waking hours- he could clearly see the differences, as minor as they were; her hair was as long as it had always been, stretching halfway down her spine, but the tone was darker with streaks of fire left over from the summer sun. Her high cheekbones were more defined, giving her features more of an angular appearance, similar to his own and that of their fathers. However, her face overall looked tight as if she'd been under some kind of strain and there was a hint of shadow beneath her bright emerald eyes. He wondered whether that was a result of their separation, or she'd just been under a lot of stress recently.

Nevertheless, she was undeniably his Clarissa and she had only blossomed into a far more unearthly goddess with age, lovelier than anything he could have imagined. And still no one else's but his.

_'Clary…'_ he brought his hands up to cup the sides of her neck, the tension between their mouths so palpable that his chest ached with it.

_'I've waited so long,'_ she smiled up at him, even as her eyes began to glisten. _'You really came back- you're really here?'_ Jonathan leant his forehead on hers, watching her shudder as her eyes closed briefly.

_'I came back for you,'_ he told her, smiling tenderly and nudging her nose with his. _'You didn't doubt me, did you? I've spent the past ten years imagining this very moment; imagining you,'_ he swallowed, brushing his thumbs over the sporadic pulse in her neck.

_'I never doubted you,'_ she replied, reaching beneath the collar of her jacket to pull out a familiar silver chain with two star-shaped pendants hanging on it. _'I had a reminder,'_ Jonathan looked down at the necklace with warm eyes, taking the newer star into his palm and fingering the quote from Hamlet.

_'As sentimental as ever,'_ he commented affectionately, a bashful smirk quirking his lips as he tucked the chain back into her jacket. He moved his fingers to entwine in his sisters fiery curls. She took his face in her hands, causing a rosy blush to spread along his cheekbones as her vivid eyes shone up at him.

_'This is the part where you kiss me,'_ she prompted gently, grinning at the look he gave her in response.

He leaned down slowly to bestow a butterfly press to her mouth, lingering to revel in the moment. The texture of her lips was as soft as he remembered; she returned the pressure with a sense of urgency, unyielding as ever as she fought for dominance, using her teeth to her advantage. He was hesitant at first, but the sensation soon overtook him, his hands tightening in her hair a fraction as he deepened the kiss. His sister whimpered as his tongue danced with hers and ran across the top row of her teeth. She pressed herself ever closer against him, her hands fisting in his black and white tweed scarf to hold him in place.

After a short eternity of hungrily feeding off one another, Jonathans heat dimmed to a slow-burn, simmering under the surface and he merely kissed her over and over again as if trying to make up for the lost time. He wrapped his strong arms around her tiny waist, slipping his hands beneath her layers to stroke the sensitive skin of the small of her back. Pulling back with a sigh of content, he rested his forehead on hers.

_'Let's go home.'_

* * *

_**Thank you for reading!**_

_**This is the end. Its not much, but its a happy ending.**_

_**I may or may not add to this, but it'll only be in the form of bonus one-shots.**_

_**I hope you enjoyed it! :P**_


	14. Bonus

-Jonathan's New Pet-

* * *

One Saturday, Jonathan moved briskly along the street towards home, clutching his jacket protectively with one hand while the other carried a shopping bag, the plastic handles beginning to bite into his long fingers.

He stopped by his block of flats, awkwardly pulling the keys from the back pocket of his black jeans. A muffled mew sounded beneath his jacket and he paused to peer cautiously inside. His lips curved into a self-satisfied grin as the kitten gazed up at him with round, olive-green eyes. It curiously poked its head out of its warm cotton womb.

"Aren't you a gorgeous girl," Jonathan crooned faintly, fisting his keys and tickling the ginger tabby behind its ear with his index finger. It meowed gratefully, its eyes falling half-mast as a mildly high-pitched purr vibrated against Jonathans chest.

"Aw, she's adorable," The white haired man glanced up to see one of his neighbours standing beside him and smiling down at his new pet. "You just get her?" the woman's blue eyes flickered up to his shyly as she subconsciously twirled a lock of brown hair around her finger.

"Yes. On a whim, actually," he replied, smirking a little as he regarded the tabby. His neighbour blushed, smiling self-consciously as she looked away.

"I'm sure Clary will like her…" she said, seeming only slightly begrudging as she moved to open the door and gestured for him to go first. Jonathan went in, making for the splintered wooden stairs.

He turned back with a foot on the bottom step. "Oh and Fiona…if you see my- Clary, don't breathe a word,"

"It's a surprise, right?" she gave him a half-amused, half-envious look from where she hesitated outside her flat.

"Of course," he winked conspiratorially, causing her blush to deepen before he continued upstairs.

* * *

Clary trudged up the stairs to her and her brother's home an hour later. Her heart swelled with content as she slid her key in the lock. She was bone-tired from the days work, but she felt anticipation coarse through her body as she closed the front door and shrugged out of her pea-coat.

"I'm back!" she called, a smile already playing around her lips. "Don't get up or anything," she added, faux-sarcastically as she kicked off her boots and padded into the front room. Jonathan was sat on their red sofa, his black eyes on her expectantly. Her own eyes dropped to the stripy fur ball standing in his lap staring at her with its slit pupils. Clary slowly sank down next to him, automatically pecking him on the lips.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Jonathan said softly, stroking the kittens head as it braced its front paws on his torso.

"You bought a cat?" Clary clarified as if there were no evidence before her.

"Yes." Her brother answered, lifting his hand to entwine in her fiery red curls. "Well, kind of," she met his onyx gaze with raised eyebrows, resisting the constant, familiar impulse to kiss him whenever he looked at her like- well, whenever he looked at her.

"Are you saying you stole it?" she asked, eyeing the kitten as it meowed loudly, vying for Jonathan's attention.

He began absently rubbing his hand up and down its back, his eyes remaining on Clary. "No. This guy with whacky, spiky black hair in a sapphire and silver striped waistcoat walked up to me and said he'd sell her to me for a kiss,"

"A kiss…?" she repeated, bemused by both the statement and her brother's nonchalance.

"Don't worry; I insisted that if I felt his tongue anywhere near or inside my mouth, I'd cut it out," Jonathan reassured her in a pleasant tone that contrasted with the end of his sentence.

"Okay…"

"I gave him what he wanted, plucked her from his clutches and then left. Swiftly," Clary nodded non-committal, brushing her fingers along the smooth skin beneath the collar of his shirt.

"Where exactly did all this happen?"

"Oh, outside the Café Nero down the street," Jonathan replied, touching his forehead to hers briefly, impossibly dark eyes unfolding her insides as his palm came to rest on her thigh. Electricity shot through her veins where his fingers skimmed along the hem of her skirt, teasing her bare skin.

"I hope he didn't stalk you home…" she said in a serious voice but she couldn't help smiling as her cheeks flushed in response to her brother's touch.

"Why? Jealous?" he raised an eyebrow at her in challenge, although a triumphant smirk was fighting to quirk up the corners of his mouth.

_'Immensely.'_ She murmured solemnly to his mind, pouting as she did.

_'There, there,'_ he soothed, sliding his hand around to the nape of her neck, thumb brushing back and forth over her pulse point. She leaned in to nudge his nose with hers, fingers knotting into the thin material of his shirt. However, when he made to capture her lips with his, she pulled back, leaving an unhappy frown on his face.

_'Wait, did you wash your mouth out when you got back?'_ she asked, watching as his face cleared and the amusement returned to his eyes.

_'Three times; I kept finding bits of glitter on my tongue,'_ his voice in her head sounded so indignant that she laughed out loud, rolling her eyes to the heavens.

_'Well, then…'_ was all she thought before his mouth enticed hers into a swirl of tongues. Her skin prickled as it always did, tingling with the sensation of the kiss. Jonathan was calm and relaxed for once, letting her lead, which equally pleased and disappointed her, causing her to miss his almost ever-present dominance.

There was a chorus of mewing then, startling Clary and breaking the moment. The redhead felt annoyance instantly rise as she watched the ginger tabby brush its head against Jonathans jaw and lick his cheek. Her brother chuckled, scratching it under the chin.

"I'll get dinner started then, shall I?" Clary sighed irritably, getting to her feet and walking into the kitchenette.

"Are you hungry~?" Jonathan cooed gently down at his new pet as it meowed again. He got up and followed his sister, the kitten practically bouncing around the heels of his feet. He took a packet of meaty cat food out of the shopping bag on the counter, tearing it open and retrieving a sachet. Clary was busy pouring Conchiglie pasta into a pot, a martyred expression on her face.

"Clarissa~" Jonathan called even though the tabby had been brushing up against the back of his legs the whole time he'd stood there; he placed the dish of cat food on a spare plastic bag on the floor as his sister spun around accusingly.

"You're not calling it that," she told him firmly.

"Why not? I'm quite fond of that name," he replied, feigning ignorance as he moved to place a hand on the counter either side of her, trapping her against his body. She squirmed a bit, crossing her arms but that only darkened his predatory gaze.

"So you're jealous of a cat now?" he only chuckled as Clary looked up at him with narrowed eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous," she responded incredulously, scowling at him. He stepped forward, pressing her tighter against him and the hard surface behind her so that she had no choice but to uncross her arms.

He leant his forehead on hers, catching her emerald eyes with his. _'I love you. Forgive me?'_

_'For what?'_

_'For making you feel second best-'_

"I'm not jealous of that damn cat!" Clary forced out through clenched teeth, exasperated. Jonathan merely grinned a maddeningly smug grin that made her blood boil, although not with anger.

"If you say so…" Jonathan shrugged deliberately, ducking his head to suck at the curve of her neck. He felt her reluctantly relax into him, her arms looping around his neck.

_'How could you possibly make it up to me…?'_ Jonathan lifted his head to look at her with one of his fine white eyebrows quirked.

_'I thought you weren't jealous,'_ he retorted mockingly.

_'Do you want sex or not?'_ she countered sweetly, looking superior even as her face heated up under the hungry, yet mischievous glint in his fathomless eyes. Jonathan resisted the urge to rebel and relented, cupping his sister's face and claiming her mouth with his own.

He distantly sensed Clary fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, but his mind was caught somewhere beneath her skirt as his hands stroked up the back of her thighs. As their embrace became more passionate and he felt his shirt come away from his shoulders and off his arms, he hitched the redhead up onto the counter, knocking over the open bag of pasta. He drew Clary's top up and over her head, her satin pink bra soon following as she locked her legs around his waist.

He trailed wet kisses from her collarbone to her left breast, where he sucked and lapped at her nipple until it was pert. Clary was failing to suppress moans as her fingers fastened non-too-gently in his ivory locks and her back arched.

_'Not here,'_ she breathed inside his head as he hastily went to work on his belt-buckle. _'That cats staring at us…'_ Jonathan laughed at the absurd tone of her voice, glancing over his shoulder to see his ginger tabby sat watching them with its wide olive-green eyes.

_'I don't know, I'd quite like an audience,'_ he commented, flashing his sister a sordid smirk. Clary smacked him on the chest half-heartedly, scooting down off the side and stepping around the kitten as if it might attack at any moment.

"Ignore her," Jonathan advised the kitten as if it could understand him, bending down to ruffle its silky fur. When he straightened up, his sister was standing with her hands on her hips, a green-eyed glare on her face; it would have looked sexy even if she hadn't been half-naked. He raised his hands in mock-surrender as he walked towards her. _'Patience is a virtue, my love,'_

_'Jonathan.'_

_'Erchomai…'_

Entering the bedroom, Clary shut the door on the cat but not before sticking her tongue out childishly. Jonathan chuckled as he finished undoing his belt and took off his jeans. When he looked up, his sister was fully naked, her skirt and knickers discarded in a heap on the floor. His member was rock solid as she stepped towards him, resting her palms on his abdomen. He licked his lips, tilting her face up to him so that he could shower her face with hot kisses. She pulled his boxers down as she tugged at his neck with her teeth, feeling his strong arms wound around her.

He pulled her onto the bed on top of him, tucking her red curls behind her ears and kissing her fiercely and tenderly all at once. He tipped her onto their bed, shimmying his hips into the space between her thighs and reaching over to the bedside table for protection. Clary leaned up to bite playfully into his shoulder, rewarded by a growl deep in her brother's throat as he slipped the condom on. She was already panting with anticipation before he pushed inside her. He brought his mouth down on hers, licking into her as he started up a rhythm between her legs.

_'Have I told you how much I love you today?'_ she spoke to his mind when his thrusts became faster and sharper. She was gasping and moaning against his lips, feeling the resonation of his guttural groans sink into the bones beneath her skin.

_'No, but its always nice to hear…'_ he just about managed to answer, starting to rock into her more sporadically now; every inch of her was quivering and trembling, her spine arched to an almost painful extreme. _'Sometimes I think you only want me for my body-'_ he suddenly picked up speed, his blunt nails digging into her waist as if he were hanging on for dear life.

Clary cried out as her body was wracked with delicious convulsions; her brother, shuddering above her, gave three last disjointed thrusts, strands of his white hair sticking to his forehead. He collapsed on top of her as if with infinite relief and her arms encircled him, fingertips tracing old faded scars across the marble contours of his back.

_'So…we're agreed you're getting rid of that cat?'_

* * *

_**Its not much, not much description but I felt like writing some Clary/Seb.**_

_**How'd you guys like the CoB film? :)**_


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